Stalked
by Turtlebaby
Summary: Sara has been kidnapped. Can the team find her in time? GSR. Rated for language and some violence. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

Title: Stalked - Prologue

Disclaimer: Ok. Ya'll know they ain't mine. Hate to disappoint you.

Authors' note: I know I promised a sequel of sorts to my last fic. But my muse wanted to write this instead. I have a beta this time around - everyone give it up for Solomynne, which also means that all mistakes are NOT mine this time around. Though I do have the final say, don't I? Ok, so blame me, but praise her! Putting up with all my errors is a tough job:) Now, on with the show!

* * *

He stood just behind the yellow tape. Watching, waiting, listening. He prided himself on his observation skills. He saw whatever he needed to see and heard everything he could possibly want to know. Like now; he saw her pick up the clue he'd left for her, the same way she had picked up every clue he had wanted her to find at other scenes before.

He wondered if she'd connected them yet. How much longer until she realized who he was and came knocking on his door. He also wondered how she felt, being strapped with one case after another that she couldn't solve. For an investigator of her caliber - this must be killing her.

She was special, different from the others. And that's why he admired her so. Did her fellow CSI's know that she took cases home with her? That she sat up way past her bedtime, pouring over evidence? That the shelves in her spare bedroom were covered with cases that had long ago gone cold? That when she was in her own home, she was always alone? That the last man she'd brought home with her had been that paramedic? What was it...Hank...that's right. Not to say she didn't have her fair share of relations with men... but Hank was the last one that she cared enough for to bring home. The rest were just toys to her. He saw it when she picked them up in bars or clubs, going home with them, staying with them, but never seeing them again. He'd come to understand that, that didn't make her easy, but that there were just certain things a girl did need, and to be close to someone, even for one night, was one of them. He needn't feel jealous of them, as they were nothing to her.

But, Hank had almost been his undoing - had almost made him lose sight of the prize. But eventually he gained enough knowledge of her and her routine, felt confident enough leaving her to follow him, to get a feel for his competition. When he had seen what her boyfriend had been up to, he almost killed him anyway - Treating _his_ girl like that. Using her like that... Nobody hurt her. Nobody. A week or so later, when she found out - she held her own. She was strong, and that was the one thing that saved that bastard's life, that he hadn't reduced her to tears. If she could be a big enough person to survive it, then he could be strong enough to resist the urge to snap his neck and bury him deep in the unforgiving desert sand. He would have deserved it, making _his _Sara the 'other woman'.

Tonight she was working with the little one again, the one that had been late joining their team. Before that, he had only seen him going into and coming out of the lab. It was the assumption that he had been a tech before getting the promotion to CSI. He might have been late joining them, but she seemed more comfortable with him than with any of the others. Maybe it was because he learned from her. Even at a crime scene, where she was at her best and most serious, he could get a smile to form on her lips.

He couldn't be jealous of this man, however. He knew that as much as she cherished his friendship, she did not reciprocate the obvious feelings the younger man held for her. He knew she had given her heart away, long ago, to another man; the older one - the one with the solemn expression and the serious demeanor...Grissom? Yeah. Grissom. And even though that did spark the slightest of jealousy in his heart, he also knew that the man did not feel for her what she felt for him. It wasn't his fault that she loved him. So he couldn't hold it against him. It was rare that they even worked together anymore. He didn't know if this was because of something that had gone on behind the security guarded doors at the lab, or if Grissom was just picking up on the vibes she was throwing off and it made him uncomfortable. When they did arrive at a scene together, she was professional, and kept her emotions in check. And he -- well, he acted like nothing more than her supervisor. He had not seen them outside of work together in a long time. In fact, not since just after that man had set her on her course with destiny.

* * *

FLASHBACK

They walked into the diner alone together, he was going on about the case they had just closed and she was hanging on his every word. When she, without him really noticing, steered him away from the crowded counter seats, and towards the semi-solitude of a booth in his section, the waiter had been filled with delight. His attention had been caught when she had laughed as they walked through the door. It was fate, their paths crossing like this. She was an angel, beautiful, graceful, and when she laughed, it made his heart soar.

He walked over to their booth and stood slightly closer to her. "Hi. Are you two having a good day?"

She looked up and him and smiled. "Oh, the best."

"Good, good. My name is Nity, and I will be your waiter today. Do you need a few minutes?"

"Yeah, and the boss is footin' the bill today." She smiled across the table at the man. "Aren't you Grissom?"

Grissom rolled his eyes, smiled a half smile and nodded. "I suppose."

Nity smiled back at her. "Can I bring you something to drink? Coffee? Water? Soda?"

The man looked at him. "I'll take a coffee, black, no sugar."

Nity nodded at him. "And you miss?"

"Bring me a cup of hot water and a tea bag. Please."

Nity smiled. She was polite. Good. "Ok, I'll be right back with those."

He walked towards the coffee pot and watched as she continued talking. God she was perfect. As he filled her cup and grabbed a tea bag, she laughed again.

He carried the drinks over to them, setting hers down first. "Here you go Miss - Sir. Need a few more minutes?"

She flipped her menu shut. "Nah, I think we're ready."

He fell in love with her then. Just five little words and he knew she really was the one for him.

END FLASHBACK

* * *

You'd think after knowing Sara for as long as he had, that Nity would also know the people she worked with. And he did, by face anyway. He only knew Grissom's name because he had been the one to introduce them, and Nity thought it only proper to remember his name. As for the rest of them, Nity was never going to interact with them, and their names just didn't really seem that important. Sara never interacted with them outside of work, why should he worry about who they were? It was clear that she considered them all to be slightly more then just co-workers - friends even - but it was also clear that she felt like she was different from them. And she was. Because she was special, that's why he chose her.

He watched as she picked the dollar bill off the ground and held up for her partner. He said something and she rolled her eyes in amusement. He knew when they got back to the lab and examined it, that they'd find exactly what he meant for them to find - it they looked close enough. And that's all they would find. Nity was careful, he had a plan, and he didn't want to fail because he got sloppy.

After years of watching her, he had finally come up with a plan to get her. Now, six months into his plan, it was almost time. As long as she was as brilliant inside the lab as she was outside of it, tonight's clue would bring them together. He hoped he had made himself clear, he knew he tended to be vague sometimes.

As she bagged it, she said something with a serious look on her face. The younger man furrowed his eyebrows and shrugged. Excitement flooded his body - she was getting it. After so many years of watching her, he'd come to know when she was onto something, just from her body language. Now that he was sure that she understood, he quickly turned and left the scene. There were preparations to finish and scenarios to run through one more time. He knew her, she wasn't as fragile as she looked, she'd probably fight him every step of the way. But in time he would make her see. They belonged together - Forever.

He took off on foot, at a quick but steady pace. He didn't want to draw attention to himself now, not when he was so close to getting everything he wanted. He never parked his car within a mile of a crime scene, none that he visited her at, whether it be one of his, or just something random. He didn't need to have his plate number written down and flagged because it showed up at numerous scenes. When he needed to follow her at a quicker pace, he did so on a bicycle or by jogging.

And he didn't worry about losing track of her anymore. She was a predictable creature. Always the same coffee shop before shift, and afterwards, the same diner for breakfast. Always alone. He had worried at first, that he'd been wrong about her, but she had proved his assumptions correct. Being in the field she was in, she should know the dangers of such a predictable routine. It was easy to be followed. Easy to be stalked.


	2. Chapter 1

Title: Stalked - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine, Not yours. Your not paying to read it and I'm not getting paid to write it. I've never made any money, so don't sue me! Thanks.

Author's Note: Again, thank you to Solomynne, my wonderful Beta! This one was full of mistakes! Poor her. :) It could be awhile before the next chapter is up. I didn't like what I'd written for the next chapter so I ripped it up, which means I get to start from scratch. Lucky me. I love feedback, and who knows, it might prompt me to write faster...so leave me some will you! Thanks! Anyway, here you go!

* * *

Sara bagged the crumpled dollar she found lying on the parking lot. People hate to lose money, but everyone loves to find it. So when someone does lose it, it doesn't lay around for long. This meant that this dollar was probably another message from their perp, the sixth message from a guy on a crime spree whom she had nicknamed 'Bill'.

All of the crimes had been different, with nothing in common except for the dollar bill found at the scene. The first was an arson, Sara had found the money in a fireproof box at the source of the flame. The second, a break and enter; the dollar left in replace of the diamond earrings that he'd taken. Third, a car jacking, a man in a mask had yanked the driver from behind the wheel and taken off. The car had been found three hours later and the money was wrapped around the steering wheel. Sara had decided then, for sure, that they were all connected somehow.

The fourth scene had been a convenience store robbery. A man wearing a mask, wielding a gun, had run in and told everyone but the cashier to get down. He took all of the cash from the drawer and he then pulled a dollar bill from his pocket and slapped it down on the counter, with no explanation. He left without anyone getting hurt. That was the first time anyone had actually seen him for more then just a brief second.

Almost two months passed without incident after that. It was a little alarming, because without a fresh crime scene, Sara had no leads to go on. At the same time it was a relief, because it also meant that maybe he had stopped. At first she had questioned that maybe someone else had picked up on one of his cases and just hadn't linked them to hers. After a while she realized that he had indeed just stopped for whatever reason. Maybe he was in jail, maybe he moved on to another city. Maybe he grew a conscience.

Finally, he struck again. The fifth crime was an attempted rape, though attempted was a little strong. Sara just called it that for lack of a better word. Terrorizing? That might work too. He'd blindfolded a young woman immediately upon gaining entrance to her home. Then, he'd tied her up, ripped off her clothing, and had stood over her for almost a full minute, scaring her half to death, before slipping on his mask and taking off her blindfold. He left her tied up on the bed and placed the money on the nightstand, saying as he left, "For your time."

He was escalating, from the arson of an abandoned building, a B&E when nobody was home, a car jacking; the first to involve human contact, a hold up involving a weapon, and then an attempted rape; very personal. And today it was an attempted murder. He had taken a shot at a man out walking his dog. Lucky for him, he had jerked around at the sound of the shot and had been hit in the arm instead of through the heart. He claimed that as he lay there bleeding, the man had thrown the dollar at his feet and said, "With my apologies, this has nothing to do with you."

Sara was worried about what he would do next. There had not been even one shred of evidence at any of the scenes to point her toward any viable suspect. Save for the dollar bills. Sara was anxious to get back to the lab, lay them all out and look at them again. _Really_ look at them this time. If this was all he was going to give them – then she'd run every single test she could on them.

She turned to her partner. "Hey Greg?"

"Yes, my love?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "I'm going to take what we've got back to the lab...you good here?"

"Yeah, I think I can handle it."

Sara nodded at him and walked to the nearest uniform, giving him explicit instructions to under no circumstances leave Greg alone at the scene. The cop tipped his hat at her. "Yes Ma'am."

Forty-Five minutes later she was standing in the layout room with Nick at her side. "Whatcha got, Sara?"

"Bill has struck again."

"You're kiddin' me."

"Nope." She pulled the crumpled dollar from the evidence bag. Smoothing it, she placed it next to the others. "Ok. So the first five have all been tested for prints, fibers...any trace at all. And assuming that he's as careful with this last one as he was with the first... then trace isn't what we're looking for."

"Uh, Sar? Then what are we looking for?"

Starting with the first one they had found she held them up to the light. "We'll know when we find it."

"Maybe they don't actually mean anything. Maybe it's just his signature, him taking claim for the crimes."

"That's what I thought at first too. But something he said to the vic tonight changed my mind. He said 'This has nothing to do with you.' And he apologized."

"Sounds like he's baiting us."

"My thoughts exactly, Nick."

"And he wouldn't try to bait us, unless he left us something."

"Now you're getting it." Sara held the last one up.

"Whoa, Sara, hang on. You see that?"

She moved it slightly. "Looks like an oil stain...maybe."

"It's awfully perfect to be an oil stain. Or any accidental stain at that rate."

"You're right..." She set the bill down. "Hand me the ALS would you?"

Nick hit the lights and handed her the machine. Sure enough the spot lit up a bright green.

"Could still be oil..." She was staring intently at the spot.

"I don't think so Sara, look." He was pointing at the table where the rest of the money lay. Areas were glowing green under the ALS.

"What the..." She pointed the light more directly on them. Random letters and some numbers appeared to be highlighted. "Why didn't we catch this right away?"

"Best guess? Because whatever he's using to mark them with, was dry before we actually looked at the bills – like disappearing ink."

Sara caught on. "And this was a shooting. It drew our attention fast, I found the bill right away, it's crumpled, and I sealed it in a plastic baggy. Less time in the air, less surface area exposed..."

"Like leaving your wet laundry in the basket, it doesn't get dry, just wrinkled...and smelly..."

"That's disgusting Nicky. You leave your wet clothes in a basket?"

"Nah, that's a lesson I learned from Greg."

"Now that, I believe."

Nick laughed. "Ok, so anyways, let's leave the mystery of Greg Sanders alone for now and get back to the one at hand."

"Obviously he's trying to tell us something." She laid out all of the cash side by side. Starting with the first she lit them up with the ALS. She grabbed a pen and copied down each of the highlighted portions. From the amount of letters per bill, she guessed one word on each.

One: T-C-C-H-A

Two: E-M

Three: R-E-D-A

Four: O-Y-U

Five: Numbers this time, 6379

Six: N-Y-I-T

"Ok so," Nick was reading over her shoulder. "T, C, C, H, A – Catch?"

"Me." She wrote it down. "Catch me. We were right, we are being baited."

"Next. R-E-D-A – Dare? O-Y-U – You. Dare you."

"Now we're being mocked. Some criminals just cannot stand it when we can't find them. There was a case I worked in San Francisco. A serial killer. When we couldn't get him after six deaths, he walked into the police station and turned himself in. Told us we were completely incompetent idiots. He wanted the attention more then he wanted those women dead."

Nick shook his head. "Well, at least you got him."

"If he had stopped killing and just walked away, we might not have." Sara shrugged. "But anyway, back to this case. These dollars are the only evidence we've got to connect these crimes. I wouldn't even have considered that they were the work of the same man if not for them. Six different crime scenes, six different MO's. Only the signatures are the same."

"His modus operandi is the things, like how he picks out his victims, how the crime is acted out, things that are necessary to commit the criminal act. The signature is the one thing he does at every scene. MO's can change as the offender learns more, or even if they just get bored with how they've been committing their crimes. Signatures rarely change, because they aren't something the guy has to do, but more what they want to do."

"You got it. And this guy doesn't have a real MO. Except of course, that apparently the attacks are all random. We don't have proof yet that he had ever had any contact with any of his victims."

Nick pointed at the next bill. "Then it's just numbers that have been highlighted. A house number? Apartment?"

"Could be. Or a partial phone number, or social security number, license plate – any number of things."

"Assuming they are even in the right order."

"Well, they probably are, given that it's the only one where they are all in a row, in the serial number."

"Wonder how long it took him to find a dollar with the serial number in the correct order?"

Sara thought back and a small smile formed. "Oh, I'd guess right around two months."

Nick looked at her confused.

"He went on hiatus for about that long, between crimes four and five. I figured he was in jail, or just decided to give up his life of crime. Obviously he just needed time to find the perfect bill."

"Well let's look at this one later. It's probably the only real way we have of finding him. He's not going to lead us to him through mockery. N-Y-I-T – Tiny?"

"Well, that is kind of odd..."

"Well, I'm assuming he's not finished yet. Next he'll be spelling out brained..."

Sara raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Possibly."

"Ok well, that didn't help. Back to the numbers I think. What are they? A code? A pattern of some sort?"

"It's hard to break a code when you don't know the author." She made a gesture with both hands. "Even harder when the author could very well be insane."

Nick nodded in agreement. "Well, I'll go run them through the computer, see if anything pops out at me."

"And I'm going to run this all by Grissom. Call me if you get anything."

"Will do." He turned and walked from the room.

Sara carefully re-bagged the cash before gathering them and her files up and exiting the room. Walking down the hall she spotted Grissom having what appeared to be a very intense 'conversation' with Catherine. He was wearing his sternest face and she had her hands out in front of her, making wild gestures as she talked. Sara didn't want to interrupt so she stopped a fair distance away and opened one of the folders in her hands.

She quickly became engrossed the file and didn't hear Hodges come up beside her. "Lover's quarrel?"

She glanced up quickly. "Huh?" Hodges pointed down the hall to Catherine and Grissom, whose conversation had quickly become an argument, which the entire lab was witnessing.

"Now Hodges, you shouldn't get that rumor started. You'll never be Grissom's favorite then."

Hodges frowned at her. "I never said I wanted to be his favorite. I just want to do my job well. Why – he doesn't think I'm a suck up does he?"

"No, he didn't say that..." She turned away from him and started walking down the hall. "I believe the words he used were 'kiss-ass'..." She grinned over her shoulder at him as he stared, baffled, after her.

Reaching Grissom's side she stopped. "Uh, guys?" She cleared her throat.

"What is it Sara?" Grissom snapped.

She stifled a smile. "You're kind of making a scene. Maybe you should take this 'conversation' _inside _your office." She pointed toward the open door less then two feet away.

Grissom quickly looked around. As everyone in the lab darted their eyes away from his, he sighed. "You're right. Now we're going to be gossip for the next week."

"Well, you can blame Hodges for that one."

"What?"

"Never mind, personal joke." She took a step back. "I'll let you two finish, and then I'll come back."

Grissom waved his hand toward his office. "No Sara, you can come too, maybe you can mediate."

Catherine chuckled. "Yeah Gil, that's an unbiased opinion. Besides, it's not like we're starting World War Three or anything. We're just having a little disagreement. We'll talk later; I'm actually due in court soon."

Sara frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? An 'unbiased opinion'?"

"A mediator is supposed to be neutral. And we all know you're not."

Sara glowered at the older woman before turning to Grissom. "I'd like your opinion on this, if you've got the time." She held up the evidence baggies containing the money.

Catherine smiled. "And that's my cue. I'll talk to you later Grissom."

As Catherine walked away, Grissom walked into his office and took a seat behind the desk. "So, how can I help?"

Sara sat down across from him. "Actually, you probably can't. But I thought I should keep you up-to-date with these cases."

"Bill? He's struck again?"

"Yeah, the shooting you sent me on this morning."

Grissom shook his head. "How is it that you land every one of his crime scenes?"

"I'm just lucky I guess."

"Yeah, but really, what are the odds?"

"Well, considering how often I'm at work and how many cases I actually handle...I'd say the odds are pretty good."

Grissom sighed. "Speaking of that. You've maxed out on overtime again."

Sara rolled her eyes. "That's never stopped me before."

"True. But maybe you should take a day off this week."

She sighed. "Grissom, we had this conversation last month. I know when I need a day off."

"Well, so do I. And I think you need to take just one day. It won't hurt. I promise."

"Griss, I'm a work-a-holic. I know it, you know it, Hell, the whole lab knows it. For you to force me to take a day off, in the middle of the week, is the harshest punishment you could dole out. And I didn't even do anything!" She was getting exasperated now. "This is not the conversation I came in here to have."

"I know." He stood up. "I'm not forcing you to. It's a recommendation, and a strong one. But not a mandatory one."

Sara stood as well and walked towards the door. "I'll think about it. Maybe I will stay home one day."

"I never said you had to stay home. Just don't come here. Ok?"

She rolled her eyes. "Gotcha."

As she walked from his office and down the hall, she threw a glance over her shoulder. When she caught him staring after her she smiled at him. He quickly averted his eyes back down to the file in his hands.

She ducked around the corner and almost ran squarely into Warrick. "Hey Sara, are you in a hurry? Or am I just invisible today?"

"You look pretty visible to me. And I'm not really in any rush, just distracted."

"By what?"

"I've got a new lead on Bill. But it's leading me nowhere."

"What kind of lead?"

"He's been marking the bills with something."

"Ahh..."

"Highlighting letters, spelling out words." Sara frowned. "And one set of numbers that doesn't mean anything."

"Frustrating. You'll get it. You always do."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence." She glanced down at her watch. "I better go. I have to be somewhere."

"Vague..." Warrick raised his eyebrows at her as he walked away.

Sara locked up her evidence before stopping to check and see if Nick had any news for her. "Hey Nick. Got anything?"

"Nope. It could still be a lot of things."

Sara sighed. "Why don't we go home for now. We can come back with fresh minds tomorrow."

"Sounds good...I've got a breakfast date with a girl from the swing shift. Wouldn't want to miss that."

Sara chuckled. "No, you wouldn't want to stand her up." She turned to walk out of the room. "Have a good time Nicky. See you tonight."

"Later."

She walked alone to her car. Maybe Grissom was right; she should take a little more time off. This was unusual, her leaving at the end of shift instead of two or three hours later. And it really wasn't that bad. Maybe it was just because her case had gone nowhere and she didn't have any real leads. She hit the automatic lock on her key chain and opened the driver's side door. Climbing in, she stuck the keys in the ignition. As she started the engine she was suddenly aware of a presence in the car. As she glanced over her shoulder a hand clamped over her mouth. A harsh whisper filled her ear. "Drive." The hand loosened and she felt the tip of a gun pressing through the back of the seat. "Drive, or I'll shoot you." There was no fear in his voice, no passion. Nothing.

Sara swallowed. Her car was locked, how did he get in? Her mind started racing. What was he going to do to her? "If you want the car, you can have it."

"You're smarter then that, Sara. I don't want the car. I want you."

He knew her name. Oh, God. This wasn't random. It was her he was after. Only one thought repeated itself in her head. 'He knows my name...he knows my name'.

She pulled out of the parking lot slowly, hoping to see someone that would recognize her. Nothing. The man gave her directions one step at a time. They drove around for about 20 minutes before he had her pull up in front of an old house. "Get out. Slowly. You try anything, and I will kill you."

She slowly opened the door, stepped out, and slammed the door behind her. He grabbed her around the upper arm and led her towards the door. She didn't know where she was but she wasn't panicking yet. She could be strong enough to get through this. She had to be.


	3. Chapter 2

Title: Stalked, Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If they are mine, then it's news to me. Someone should have told me. I'd have brought along ToYD looooong ago. Don't sue me.

Authors' Note: Sorry this one took so long to get to you! There was some confusion between my beta and myself, I thought she had it...she thought I was slow...nobody asked any questions. Turns out, my computer just decided to eat the email I sent her containing it. So please, props to Sol for putting up with what she thought was just extremely slow me... I love you guys for the feedback, makes this whole confusing mess worthwhile. So leave me some. Please? Thanks! Enjoy.

* * *

Nity was both surprised and delighted that so far she hadn't so much as screamed. She's been a little confused at first. Silly woman had actually thought he'd wanted her car. He chuckled at the thought as he followed Sara to his front door.

As he reached around her and slipped the key into the lock, he allowed himself to inhale the tantalizing sent of her shampoo. He heard her gasp as he touched her neck as he drew his hand back. "Sweet Sara."

"How…how'd you know my name?"

He opened the door and led her inside. "I know everything about you Sara." He touched her waist and she shuddered. "I have to know everything to make you happy."

"Make me happy? How does any of this make me happy?"

Nity shut the door behind them and slipped two heavy deadbolts into place. He smiled to himself. He had been right. She was feisty. But she'd learn, in time, that this did make her happy. Really happy, not the false happiness she expressed around her coworkers. "I did all of this for you. So you would feel welcome in my home. In our home."

* * *

Against the desperate feeling of panic building in her chest, Sara remained calm. He had brought her here to be with him, not to kill her. All she had to do was play along and maybe he wouldn't hurt her. She quickly blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. "Thank you."

"You're oh so welcome, my dear Sara. I'm glad you appreciate all I did."

Sara nodded and swallowed to steady her voice. "Yes. I really do."

He pointed her toward a chair. "Sit. We've got some rules to discuss."

As Sara sat, she looked around, taking in her surroundings for the first time. The inside of the house looked worse then the outside. The wallpaper was yellowed with age, the paint on the ceiling chipping off, cobwebs filled every corner, and the windows were so heavy with dirt she couldn't see out of them. When she sat, a small puff of dust arose from the cushion on the chair. "What rules?"

"First off, even though this is your house too now, there are some places that are still just mine. Places that you may never enter. My office is strictly off-limits. As is the attic. You will have a room of your own, as well. Second, and I hate to do this, but for the time being, I'm going to have to restrain you. I've sacrificed a lot to be here with you today, a good job, good friends, a nice apartment. And I don't want you leaving before we can get to know each other. Ok?" He waved the gun in her direction.

"You don't have to tie me up. I won't go anywhere." She was amazed at how calm she sounded.

"Ah Sara, I know how trustworthy you are, but I'm afraid that I just can't believe you yet. Come with me." He stood and led her through to the kitchen. He pointed toward the basement door. "Your room is down there."

She nodded and took a step toward the door before turning to face him. "And where do you stay?"

He smiled at her. "My room is up here. I'll give you the full tour later. For now, let me show you to your room."

He followed her to the door and opened it for her. She stopped on the first step. "It's dark…"

"Sorry love," he reached out and flipped on the switch. "I forgot I blacked out all the windows."

She took a few more tentative steps into the basement. "It's ok."

"Of course it is."

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped. The room looked like it had seen better days. The walls were stained a rusty brown from years of water damage. The floor was nothing more then dirt. A full size mattress lay on the floor. Beside it sat an old rocking chair. At both ends of the bed a thick steel pole had been set up. Sara imagined that was what he was going to chain her to because of the thick chains attached to them. The smell of wet dirt and mildew assaulted her nostrils and she wrinkled her nose.

"Sorry about the stench, but I'm afraid I didn't have the financial resources to fix up the place. You've kept me very busy these last few years."

_Years?_ Sara wondered silently. How long had he been following her? She couldn't remember ever meeting him. But she knew that with stalkers, all it would have taken was an apology when she bumped into them in the hall. "What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

The man laughed a warm, almost affectionate laugh. "Well," he pointed to a far corner. "See that? That's a closed circuit camera. So when I'm not down here with you, I can still watch you. If you need something, all you have to do is wave. I want to make you as comfortable as possible. And when I'm not here, there will be a bucket within reach. You'll discover soon enough that I have no intention of hurting you, that all I really want is for you to know how deeply I care for you. But you'll also discover that if you do not obey me, I will hurt you. Think of it as my teaching technique. You'll be rewarded for good behavior. And punished for the bad." He pointed to the bed. "Now sit."

Sara sat down heavily on the mattress and looked up expectantly. He reached down and grabbed her ankle. "What are you doing?" Even she was surprised at the gall she had to ask him that.

"I told you I had to restrain you. At least for now." He snapped a heavy iron cuff to her ankle. "Now I have to go out for a while. I have to get rid of your car. It might look a little suspicious to have it parked by my curb. We both know your CSI buddies will find it, and I don't need them finding me too. Can I get you anything before I go?"

"No."

"I can bring you a cup of tea. Or if you prefer, a mug of hot water and a tea bag…"

Sara squinted her eyes at him. "What's your name?"

His hand made a sharp contact with her face before she knew it was coming. The stinging on her cheek brought a quick shine to her eyes. "What was that for?"

"How dare you not even know my name! After all I've done for you. All I've given up for you! Ungrateful bitch! I remembered your name! I even remembered that friend of yours. Grissom... I even remembered his name. And you can't remember mine. I'll be back." He took off storming up the stairs and slammed the door so hard the frame rattled.

Sara lay down on the mattress and thought. She was in a bad situation. No, a horrible situation. She didn't know how she was going to get home again.

* * *

Nity slammed the basement door in anger. His temper was quickly flaring. This was not supposed to be the way this happened. He had never thought she'd come willingly, or be thrilled to be here. But to not even know who he was? Still seething he punched his fist against the wall. Damn her! Taking a deep breath, he tried to remind himself that it wasn't all her fault. He'd had years to learn about her. And that first introduction, the only time she'd ever acknowledged him, had been a very long time ago.

Tampering down the anger he could still feel just beneath the surface, he grabbed a tray he had prepared and opened the basement door again. He found her lying in the mattress, her hands over her eyes. He set the tray down beside the bed and kicked the mattress sharply. She jumped as though he'd struck her. "I brought you some food and water. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

He turned to go back up the stairs when she spoke. "You've been leaving me clues." He stopped and turned back around to face her. She had uncovered her eyes and sat up. "The dollar bills."

He walked over to the edge of the mattress, squatted down in front of her, and nodded. "I knew you'd find me."

He watched as her beautiful eyes darkened with confusion. "But I di…"

He had always been amazed at how her face expressed emotion. How it changed. With the realization that she had indeed come to him, her eyes grew wide and her lips parted just slightly. He reached out and cupped her face, momentarily confused when she flinched. Then he remembered that just minutes ago that same hand had struck her. He gently laid his hand against her still red cheek. "I'm sorry…" Panic filled her eyes and he was immediately sorry that he had hit her. He hadn't had a good reason. "I won't hurt you Sara. I was just insulted."

"I didn't mean to upset you." She had bowed her head and her hands were gripping one another. "I just can't remember…"

He took a deep breath. "My name's Nity." She didn't say anything, just nodded. She lay back down on the mattress and closed her eyes. He reached out and smoothed her hair behind her ears. "Sleep now, my Sara, we can talk later."

He walked up the stairs and shut the door quietly behind him. Using the key around his neck he locked the basement door, and then slid two deadbolts into place. He didn't really think she'd get loose from that chain, but there was always the risk some snoopy high school kid would break in again. And he didn't want to ever let her go.

* * *

Listening carefully, Sara heard the locks snap together, and then five minutes later she heard the front door close. As he had said, all the windows had been blacked out and there was no way for her to see outside. She stood and walked as far as she could toward the stairs. About three feet from the bottom step, the chain grew taut. She went back and sat down in the chair next to her makeshift bed. The cuff around her ankle was heavy and awkward. She examined the links to the chain closer. They all looked new and strong, and there didn't appear to be a weak spot that she could work at to get loose.

She started shivering uncontrollably. She didn't know if it was the cool damp air, or perhaps her unbridled fear finally coming to the surface, but she could not get warm. Curling into a fetal position, she laid down on the dirty mattress. Her skin felt clammy and her stomach was tossing. This was not good. She was quite possible going into shock. She'd managed to hold it together while he was there, show no weakness, and express no fear. Be stronger then him. But now he was gone, she was alone, and thoughts of what were to come started racing through her head. She didn't want to die here. "Oh God."

She knew that eventually her team would realize she was missing. But she'd only been gone two hours…maybe less. It would be a full day before anyone really started to worry. And she'd told Grissom she might stay home. So it could be two days. A lot could happen in two days. If the slap across the face had proven anything, it was that he was very likely unstable. In two days, she could do anything and anger him enough to get the shit kicked out of her. In two days, he could have raped her, beaten her, tortured her…in two days, her life could have come to an abrupt end.

Sara had been in some very ugly situations in her life. Some things so painful that she wouldn't wish them upon Ecklie… but she had never before been this scared. Never before had fear alone made her feel like she needed to vomit.

She tried to understand him, tried desperately to remember when she had met him. When he'd told her that she had come to him, at first she thought he was completely insane, that he honestly thought she had come voluntarily. Then her mind had raced back to the hints she had picked up. Her…not anyone else… Those clues were meant for her.

That number was one she saw every time she came to work. It was the number they identified her parking space with. They were stenciled across the bottom of the sign, beneath the words "Employee parking only." Two years ago, there had been a big ordeal involving employee spaces. There hadn't been enough to go around, so the lot had been repainted and every employee had been assigned a number. It wasn't the sign she looked at every day, it was the spot, which is why she hadn't immediately realized what was going on. She really had walked right into his arms.

She knew she should be trying to get away while he was gone. She knew that the longer she was here the less chance of escaping she had. She had used to look at people, people who had been held hostage, grown adults, and wondered why they hadn't fought back. Now she knew.

None of the self defense classes she had taken had actually prepared her for this. She should have screamed, yelled at the top of her lungs. She should have kicked and fought to get away. But she hadn't. For as strong as she thought she was, the instant she had felt his presence in her car, fear had attacked her every nerve ending. Every technique she'd ever learned had disappeared into thin air, and she had felt completely defenseless.

She lay there, her arms wrapped around herself, drifting in and out of consciousness, for what felt like hours before she heard the front door opening again. She pried her eyes open, surprised to find them blurry with tears. Crying had never been her thing. She'd always been stronger then a tear. And she honestly could not remember when they'd started this time. Quickly, she swiped at her eyes and sat up. No way in hell was she going to let him know how scared she really was. When she heard the basement door open she stood. 'Be strong. Meet him on his level.'

The stairs creaked as he came down. "Sara? Honey, I'm home." He appeared at the bottom. "Miss me?"

"Can I see the rest of the house now?" She hated the smile that broke out on his face.

"Sure. I was hoping you'd ask." He came closer and pulled the gun from his waistband. "Sit down; let me get that cuff off."

She sat down on the chair and lifted her foot toward him. "You know, you don't have to put this on me. You can trust me not to run."

"In time, maybe I will trust you. But as it is still the first day, I don't think so."

Sara sighed; it had been worth a shot. "I need to use the bathroom."

"Ok. We'll stop there first." He grabbed her around the upper arm and hauled her to her feet.

As they started up the stairs, he walked beside her, making it awkward to take each step. When they reached the top, she was surprised to find that it was already dark outside. She'd been taken early that morning, right after shift, where had the day gone? And where had Nity been all day? She didn't want to ask. Her last round of curiosity had gotten her slapped. Who knew what he'd do this time.

When he started talking, she forced herself to pay attention, anything he said could potentially be the answer to how she could get out of here.

"…and this is the sitting room. But we'll never actually use it. That's what the family room is for. This one's just for show." He pointed to a room just past the kitchen. "But anyway, here's the bathroom. Don't try anything. You've got exactly two minutes. Don't lock the door. Go."

Sara bolted for the bathroom, the first thing she did was hurriedly empty her painfully full bladder. Then she went straight for the window, trying to determine exactly where he had her held. Unfortunately, the bathroom faced the back of the house, and all she could see out the window were trees. As she flushed the toilet, she looked around. This room held nothing but a small shower stall, a toilet, and a small sink. Above the sink there was a medicine cabinet and she opened it as she turned on the water. Nothing except a bottle of ibuprofen and a box of chocolate laxatives. Nothing to help her escape. Dammit.

Nity pounded on the door as she shut off the tap. "I'm coming." She opened the door and he was standing right there. She took an involuntary step backwards and he reached out and grabbed her.

"Now, Sara, let me show you the rest of the house."

She winced at how tightly he squeezed her arm as he dragged her through the house. She took it all in with the eyes and ears of a CSI. Every drawer she saw was locked; every door had a bolt on it. In three of the rooms, metal poles similar to the ones he'd had her chained to in the basement stood in the center of the floor. Judging from this, she decided that those three rooms, the kitchen, family room, and 'porch'; as he called it, were going to be where she spent a lot of her time.

He took her from room to room, showing her things that she was not allowed to touch. "…and this is the stairway to the attic. You are to never, ever go up there. Do you understand?" His eyes were narrowed and his voice held the same rough anger it had when he'd struck her.

"Yes. I understand."

"Good." Immediately his tone was calm again. He even whistled as he led her down the hall. "And this is my bedroom. Eventually it will be our bedroom."

Sara's heart jumped into her throat. "Our bedroom?"

He laughed and Sara felt icicles form in her veins. "You don't actually expect to be in a relationship without ever consummating it, do you? I mean it's not like you're old fashioned or anything."

She swallowed hard. He thought they were going to have sex. He expected her to want him. To willingly open herself up to him. An immediate sense of queasiness settled in her stomach. It was getting harder and harder to stay strong in his presence. It was getting hard to play this game.

* * *

True to his word, he showed her around the entire house before returning her to the basement. She hadn't seen a phone, and it had been to dark outside for her to tell any details of the street she was on, which meant that even if she had been able to get to a phone to call for help, she had no way to tell them where she was.

As he locked the cuff around her ankle, he sat down in the chair next to hers. "So Sara, how was your day?"

Sara felt disbelief in this man. He had taken her from the parking lot, chained her up in his basement, and now he wanted to know how her day had been? Pretending he'd just come home from a hard day's work to find his wife waiting for him. He wanted to have a conversation? She frowned. "Not to bad…considering." She waved her hand toward her foot.

"Yeah, again, I'm sorry about that. I just don't want to lose you." He paused for a moment and Sara actually thought she saw real regret in his eyes. Then he continued talking again. "I took your car and left it at the airport. I also went to your apartment and cleared out your refrigerator and disconnected your utilities. It hasn't changed much since the last time I was there."

"You've been there before?" Sara took a chance. Honestly, the curiosity just to know was the only thing fueling her now.

"Yes, quite a few times actually. The first time I got lucky, you left your front door unlocked while you were in the shower. I found your spare key in the kitchen and got a copy made. After that, I came and went as I pleased. You're beautiful when you're sleeping. Like an angel." He reached out to touch her again and this time she did pull away.

"Don't touch me." Her tone came out as a mixture of fear and anger.

"My dear, I can do whatever I want to you. You're mine now." His voice got deep and slow and his demeanor grew livid. "In fact, right now," He kneeled in front of the bed and grabbed her hair. "Right now I just want to touch you."

He moved in and kissed her cheek. Sara fought hard not to gag as his sour breath filled her nostrils and his clammy lips pressed against her flesh. She struggled to get away but he grabbed another fistful of hair with one hand and held her in place. His other hand was fumbling along the bottom of her shirt. When his calloused fingertips touched the tender flesh of her stomach, she reacted in the only way she knew how. Punching out with both hands, she caught him first in the stomach and then again on the hip. He stumbled back from his kneeling position. "I said. Don't touch me."

"You are a fighter, aren't you? But I already knew that." He came at her again and this time instead of fear, only anger filled her. "If I want you, Sara, I will have you." He shoved her back onto the mattress and straddled her hips, pinning her down.

Sara shoved at him and punched wherever she could reach to no prevail. He was bigger then her, stronger then her, and apparently, more determined then her. "Get! Off! Me!" When he clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle her screams she bit down onto his fingers…hard. Hard enough to fill her mouth with the salty taste of blood. He pulled his hand back immediately and swore at her.

"Bitch." He lifted himself off the bed and slapped her across the face. She spit his blood from her mouth and gagged. He kicked over the tray of food beside the bed and headed back upstairs. "Don't think this is over. You won't get away so easily next time."

Sara had never felt violated like this before. She'd always related to rape cases at work, not because she herself had been raped, but because she related to women being abused in general. Now here she was, he'd really done nothing but touch her, and she was shaking like a leaf. Again, she curled herself into a ball and began rocking gently back and forth. She wondered exactly what she had done to set him off this time. Had it been the actual words she'd said? The tone in which she'd said them? What had made him turn against her so fast?

'He's crazy. He doesn't need a reason.' She thought to herself.

She closed her eyes and somehow managed to fall asleep. Dreams came fast that night, vivid nightmares about the man upstairs, touching her, hurting her. Keeping her. Then there was another, she felt so out of control it was like a feeling of spiraling out of the sky. Nobody to help her. Nobody to rely on. Sometime near morning she jerked herself awake feeling so alone. With only one word on her lips. "Grissom."


	4. Chapter 3

Title: Stalked, Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Well, they're still not mine, no matter how I beg to have them. So obviously I'm not making any money. Which is unfortunate, because I'm broke. Again. So please don't sue me, I need all I have.

Authors' Note: Sol, you've put up with much more then I can say. Thank you. As for the rest of you...leave me some feedback! Come on now, don't make me beg...I don't like to beg, makes me feel cheap. :o) Even if you don't like it, tell me. I'm not saying I'll change it...but maybe it'll help in the next chapter. And if you DO like it, I want to know! So hit the review button and tell me!

* * *

Nick hung up his phone as he walked into Grissom's office. "Grissom?" 

Grissom looked up at the sound of confusion in Nick's voice. "Yeah Nick?"

"Have you seen Sara tonight?" He leaned against the doorframe.

"She said she was probably going to take the night off."

Nick almost laughed out loud. "Sara? A night off? In the middle of the workweek? That's not usual."

"She maxed out on overtime again. It was my suggestion." Grissom frowned. "Why? Do you have something for her on one of her cases?"

Yeah, and I've been calling her for two hours now…starting to worry a little. Even if she's off, she always answers her phone when it's the lab calling."

"Maybe she's asleep." He frowned again. "Or out…"

This time Nick did laugh. "That sounds even stranger then her taking a night off."

"She's allowed to have a life, Nick."

"Yeah I know, but that doesn't mean she does."

Grissom didn't like the idea of her sitting alone all the time. "You've left messages?"

"Yep, two on her machine at home, two on her cell."

Grissom nodded. "Ok then, it's not like you can worry yet, she's a grown woman."

Nick nodded in agreement, for all they knew, she was sound asleep with her phone on vibrate. "Ok boss, I'll get back to work. Let me know if you hear from her ok?"

* * *

Grissom nodded as Nick turned from the doorway and headed for trace. He shouldn't be worried either, but Nick was right, this was unlike her. Highly unlike her. He picked up his phone. Dialing her number he sighed, he was overreacting again. If it were any of the rest of his team, he'd assume they were just out having a good time. But with Sara… 

Her machine picked up. "Hey Sara, its Grissom. I know I urged you to take a night off, but Nick's got something for you. Call me."

He hung up and frowned. She had never not picked up when he called. He grabbed his car keys off the desk and started for the door. On the way he almost bumped into Catherine. "In a hurry, Gil?"

"I just uh, have to go check on something. Tell everyone I'll be back in about an hour, would you?" Not giving her a moment to question him further he headed for the door.

As he pulled up into her apartment's parking lot he looked around. Her car wasn't here. Glancing at his clock, he saw it was after 1am. She should be here. He parked in the spot next to hers. Getting out of the car he dialed her number again. Her machine. Then he tried her cell phone, and it went immediately to her voice mail. "Sara, it's me. I'm starting to worry. Call me." He couldn't control the panic in his voice. He didn't know why he was worried at all. When she finally did get home and called him, he was going to be awfully embarrassed. He thought about this for only a fleeting moment as he reached her door.

Knocking loudly, he called her phone again. He could hear it ringing through the door but all other signs of life were silent. "Sara?"

Still no answer. He continued knocking as he dialed Brass's number. "Hey Jim, it's me."

"Hey buddy, what's up?"

"I need you to do something for me. Don't ask, just please do it."

"Name it."

"I need you to check the GPS unit in Sara's car. See where she is."

"Spying on your CSI's again Gil? That's not nice."

"I can't find her, and it's not like her to disappear." He heard Brass sigh at the other end of the line.

"Alright, I'll call you back when I get something. Don't panic ok? I'm sure she's fine, just preoccupied."

"Yeah, that's what I told Nick, before I started worrying. Thanks." He hung up the phone and started back down the stairs. This wasn't like him, not at all. But he suddenly had a very strong sense that something was wrong. He got in his car and drove back to the lab. There was nothing he could do yet.

As he entered the building fifteen minutes later, Greg walked up beside him. "Find her?"

Grissom furrowed his eyebrows, "She's not missing Greg."

"So when you took off out of here like a bat out of hell, you were just late for a doctor's appointment or something then. Your conversation with Nick had nothing to do with it?"

Grissom sighed. "I went over to her place."

"And she's not there is she?"

"No, she's not."

"Should I worry?"

"I don't know Greg, I just don't know." He walked away from the younger man, leaving him standing in the hall with an expression of anxiety on his face.

* * *

Half an hour later, Grissom was sitting at his desk contemplating calling Sara's phone again when his rang. He answered it. "Sara?" 

"Boy, you must really be worried about her, huh?"

"Jim…"

"Sorry, but I know you have caller ID on your phone."

Grissom gritted his teeth. It was like he couldn't control his own thoughts. Only Sara could get under his skin like this. "Get anything?"

"Yeah, and it is kind of strange. I'm looking at the screen right now, and the little blip that is her car has been sitting at the airport."

"The airport? She was taking one day off, not going on vacation."

"According to the guy I talked to, it's been sitting there since yesterday…long term parking. I've sent someone over there to check it out."

"Don't let them touch it. I'm on my way…it could be a crime scene."

"I figured you'd say that. They have strict orders not to do anymore then look in the windows."

"Thanks." He was up and out of his office before the impact of what Brass had said actually hit him. He stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and didn't hear Greg come up behind him.

"…Grissom? Hey, Grissom!"

He turned around. "Go grab your kit. And get Nicky too. Brass has Sara's car."

"Now can I worry?"

Grissom answered as he turned back around. "Yes Greg. Now you can worry."

* * *

Half an hour later Nick, Greg, and himself were standing next to Sara's car. Nothing looked amiss; the doors were locked, keys gone. From the outside he didn't see any sign of struggle. 

"What if she really just went out of town? She'll come back and think we've lost it - for breaking into her car." Greg spoke up as a uniform popped the lock.

"Nah, Greg, she'll be flattered that we were so worried." Nick tried to shrug it off but inside his stomach was a mess. He knew what it was like to be alone somewhere and not know if anyone had even missed you yet.

"I'm just sayin'…"

"She would have said something if she were going somewhere." Grissom snapped. His head hurt and this was like a nightmare come to life. "Let's get this car processed."

They all stepped to the back of the car and a silence fell as the same uniform worked the lock on the trunk. They all knew what they could find inside. When the lock finally gave, the cop took a step back for the CSIs to open it fully. Greg quickly looked down at his shoes and Nick closed his eyes. Glancing at them both, Grissom took a step forward and with a gloved hand lifted the lid. "It's empty."

He heard the rush of air as both men released the fear that had been building. "Ok. Nick, you take the trunk. Greg, the backseat. I've got the front." He walked around to the driver's side door and opened it. Just as one would imagine, it was clean inside.Showroom clean

"What does she do in here? Vacuum everyday?" Greg's voice came from the backseat.

"Either that, or our perp cleaned it for her."

"I've seen cars that have been cleaned by a perp, Grissom. This car looks CSI clean."

"Then we'll know that anything we find can help. Get to work."

An hour later they were still coming up with nothing. No hairs, no fibers, no prints. Every imaginable surface had been wiped clean. The only positive thing was there was also no trace of blood.

Greg spoke up from the backseat. "Grissom? I think you should take a look at this."

Grissom opened the other back door and looked at what Greg was pointing to. It was an indent in the leather of the back of the driver's seat. "Can you tell what that is?"

"Looks like the barrel of a gun left an impression."

"So most likely she was taken at gunpoint. We need to get the security footage from the cameras."

Brass walked up behind the car then. "Guys find anything?"

Nick turned to face him. "I don't think there is anything here for us to find. There's no sign Sara was ever in this trunk…"

"We've got evidence to suggest that she was taken against her will at gunpoint. Muzzle imprint on the back of her seat." Greg's voice was unusually solemn.

Grissom spoke up. "Can we get the tapes from the cameras?"

"Already done. They're on the way to your lab now. You guys need anything else?"

"Did you put an APB out on her?" Nick asked.

"She won't officially be a missing person for another three hours. I'll file the complete report then."

"God that rule sucks. We can't prove that she's not on a beach in Tahiti right now, but we KNOW she's not! So we just sit around with our thumbs up our asses until she's been missing for 24 hours. In 24 hours her trail could have gone ice cold. Dammit!" Nick's voice was angry and he was pacing in a small circle behind the car.

When Grissom responded his tone was somehow still calm. "Listen Nicky, getting mad isn't going to help her. If we keep our tempers in check and reign in our emotions, we'll find her. Ok?"

Nick took a deep breath through his nose and released it in a whoosh from his mouth. "Lets get this back to the garage and fume the inside. Maybe we'll get lucky."

* * *

They moved the car back to the garage at the lab and Nick set up a fume gun inside. "She's really going to be mad if we destroy her car and she's just taking a day…" 

From the other side of the car, Catherine sighed. "We both know that she's not."

"I know. But I'd rather just imagine she'll come storming in here, yelling at us for making a mess of her car." He turned on the gun, stepped back and shut the door. On the side, Catherine mimicked his movements.

"I know Nicky, but you have to be realistic. Some guy took her. She's being held somewhere right now against her will, scared and alone. And she's depending on us to find her."

"You shouldn't sugar coat it, Catherine. Why don't you just remind me that she could be raped or killed? You think I've been doing this job this long and don't realize what kind of danger she could be in?" The pitch in Nick's voice raised as his emotions got the better of him. He didn't know if he was more scared for Sara, or angry at the man that took her.

"I know it's hard Nick, but we have to think of her as a victim instead of a friend, or else we'll end up approaching this like a distraught friend instead of a talented CSI. She doesn't need a friend now; she needs us to do what we do best."

"I know Cath. I'll try…we are going to find her aren't we?"

Catherine turned towards the door. "One way or another, Nick. Call me when this settles." She waved her hands at the car.

* * *

She knocked softly on Grissom's door. It was standing open, but he looked like if she didn't announce her presence he would jump out of his skin if she started talking. Even at the soft knock he flinched just a little. Looking in her direction he smiled a dry smile. 

"Hey Grissom. You look like you've lost your best friend." Her tone almost a whisper.

He rolled his eyes in an attempt to lighten the mood. "More like, I misplaced something important. If I hadn't told her to take the night off…"

"Hey now. We can't play the blame game ok? It wouldn't have made a difference anyhow. Her car has been in that parking lot since yesterday morning, about an hour and a half after she clocked out."

"Have we seen the tapes from the security camera?"

Catherine sighed; he was being avoidant again. "Yeah. You see her car pull up, a man gets out. But it's a bad image…you can't see anything but a shadow."

"So we have nothing." He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Not yet. Nick's fuming the car and Greg's going to head over to her apartment…"

"…I'm going with him." He stood up quickly.

"We don't expect to find anything there…we don't think she made it home."

"Still. Call me if Nick gets any prints." He brushed past her on his way out the door.

* * *

As the apartment manager, a man who was not too happy about being woken up in the middle of the night, unlocked Sara's door, Greg spoke up. "This feels a little weird Grissom…I mean it's her home." 

"I know. Let's go." He turned to the manager. "Thank you. We'll lock up when we leave, and contact you if we have any further questions."

The man grumbled something about waiting until the sun came up and then shuffled his way back to his own apartment.

Greg was standing there staring into the apartment. Grissom walked in and looked back at him. "Come on Greg. You're not going to find anything just looking in."

Greg sighed and walked through the door. "I really have a problem snooping through my friend's stuff."

"We're not snooping. We're investigating. If you're going to have a problem with this, you should go back to the lab and help Nick with prints."

Greg shook his head. "No, I'm ok."

"Good. I'll take the bedrooms and the bathroom. You cover the kitchen and living room. Ok?"

Greg nodded and headed for the kitchen, relieved not to have to enter the more personal rooms of her home. "No sign of struggle." He announced as he walked in.

"Yeah, we're pretty sure she didn't make it home."

"Then what are we doing here? If we don't think he was here?"

"Because, we don't have anywhere else to look."

Greg turned away from the sound of Grissom's voice and began searching for anything out of the ordinary. Eventually the discomfort he had felt faded away as he started thinking of the room as a just another scene as opposed to Sara's home; after he stopped thinking that they weren't Sara's notes taped to the refrigerator, that they weren't Sara's dirty dishes in the sink. He opened the refrigerator and frowned. Empty. Not so much as a half empty jar of mayonnaise, or can of pop. Maybe their guy had been here… or she cleaned it out herself. As he looked around the rest of the room, nothing else popped out as being strange, or even out of place. Sighing, he straightened his shoulders and walked through the room divider into the living room.

This time it was a little harder not to remember that these were Sara's things. Everything in this room reflected who she was. He found himself staring at the photos on the wall, wondering who they were. That wasn't usual for just a random victim. He could picture her curled up on the couch with a book, or remote in hand. Everything about this sucked. This was Sara's property he was supposed to be rifling through. How on earth was this supposed to be an objective search? He took another look at, what he assumed was, a picture of Sara as a child and got to work. She needed his A game. And that's exactly what she was going to get.

* * *

Grissom walked back to Sara's bedroom and stopped at the door. He had expected this to be easier then it was. He'd always taken a quiet pride in the fact that he could detach himself from a case to the point that there wasn't so much a victim as it was just another puzzle for him to solve. He'd never let his emotions rule the way a case was handled. It was rare that he even showed those emotions that he felt. 

Why was this case so different? Even when Nick had been kidnapped and held, he had been able to detach himself and bring him home. He'd worried about Nick, sure, but he'd had faith in himself, faith in his team, and he knew they'd find him. Now he felt the faith in himself wavering, because all he wanted to do was punch something. Scream to the heavens that it wasn't fair. They could not take her now. Not now.

The faith in his team never wavered however. He knew they all liked Sara, thought of her as a friend, and wouldn't let her down. But as Greg had just proven, it was going to be hard on them, to collect evidence objectively, to question suspects without remembering who it was that they'd lost. And how could he expect them to? They would all get emotionally involved. Damn. This really wasn't fair.

He walked into her room, reaching out and flipping on the overhead light as he walked in. Nothing seemed out of place, and there was no sign of struggle. He assumed that the early assumptions had been correct and she had never made it home. So, somewhere between point A and point B, she had been grabbed.

He'd never been in her bedroom before, and Greg was right, it didn't feel right to be here now. He opened a drawer and sifted a gloved hand through her most private possessions. Then he opened another and learned a few things about her that made him blush. Closing the drawer quickly he gave the room a thorough once over before declaring it clean and moved on to the extra bedroom.

He walked in and flipped on a light, and what he saw made him frown. For as neat as the other rooms were, this one did look like a struggle had occurred. Papers covered every surface and police files filled the shelves. He'd only picked up three when he realized what this room was. This was where she kept her cold cases, hundreds of them. When he opened another one, he realized they weren't just hers. Some of them appeared to go back twenty or thirty years. "My God Sara…"

Shorthand, written in her handwriting, filled a large portion of the margins. His voice shook as he closed the file and set it back down. "Sometimes you just have to let go…" He walked out of the room. They could send someone else back to collect these later if they decided they were probative to the investigation.

"Greg?"

"In here."

Grissom walked into the living room to find him staring a group photo they'd taken at the last Christmas party. He walked up beside him. "It's hard."

Greg looked at him with a sorrowful expression. "Do you even know where yours is?" He pointed to the photo.

"No. In an album somewhere would be a good guess."

"Me either. But she framed hers, hung it up…in a location that she'd see it every single day." He turned from the picture and walked toward the door. "Are we done?"

"Did you find anything?"

"No. The fridge is empty…I mean empty. Not a thing inside. But that's not that weird…I dated a girl once who didn't keep any food in her house. None. If she wanted to eat something she went to the store, bought in, cooked it, ate it, and threw all the leftovers away." He shrugged. "But, for Sara, it just struck me as out of character."

Grissom nodded. "Yeah, it is. Last time I was here the refrigerator was full. It's been awhile, but I don't think that would change. Why would it be empty?"

"I was thinking maybe our guy cleaned it out for her. I mean, if he's got her, he's got her keys…"

"But he didn't touch anything else? Didn't disrupt anything…I don't know…Wait. There was something else..." He turned and walked from the room.

Greg followed close behind him. "What do you mean?"

"Her clothes…" He opened her closet. "She has to have more clothes then this…I've never seen her wear any of this…" he waved his had towards the shirts.

"You know what she wears?"

"Yeah, and I know what you wear. That shirt," He pointed to Greg's chest."It's new."

"How'd you…"

"It's my job Greg. I notice things. And her toothbrush and hairbrush are strangely absent."

"So maybe she did go on a trip." Greg suddenly sounded hopeful.

"No. You and I both know better. Whoever took her came back here to get her things. Either to make it look like she went on vacation, or so she had it. But that's good. It means she's probably still alive. He had to figure that I, as her boss, would know she didn't go on vacation…"

"So why go through the motions if he knew we weren't going to buy into it anyway?"

"He wasn't just going through the motions Greg… He was here to get it for her. So she'd have it. We need to go tell Brass."

Grissom nodded and headedfor the door, holding it open as Greg bolted out in front of him. Locking it behind him, he sealed it with a crime scene sticker. That way they'd know if he came back.

* * *

**One more time for all of you who weren't paying attention - Leave me some feedback, I THRIVE on the stuff. Thank you!**


	5. Chapter 4

Title: Stalked - Chapter 4

Disclaimer: No matter how much I beg, nobody will let me have them. And that's sad.

Authors' note: Ok. This chapter is long. Sol, thank you millions for the beta! Now for the rest of you...leave me some feedback. I am so past begging. Now I am demanding. Leave it! or I shall with-hold the next chapter! Mwahahaha:o) So leave me some ok? Thank you!

* * *

Sara sat up, her head feeling groggy, when she heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. At first she couldn't figure out where she was; but as the chains around her ankle clanged together, the memories rushed back to her again, like they always did. Quickly, she stood. The footsteps could only mean that Nity was heading down the stairs. And she was not going to let him catch her vulnerable, she hadn't yet. She wondered what time it was. Hell, what day it was. 

Using her food intake and bathroom visits, she figured she'd been chained to this pole now for about fifteen days, give or take. It didn't seem possible to actually lose track of time, but this man hadn't let her upstairs for longer then three minutes at a shot. A few times it had been daylight, the rest; only darkness had welcomed her from the dirty windows.

So far, Nity hadn't said anything or done anything to suggest that he was going to harm her. He'd leave everyday, she assumed he was at work, or maybe just keeping an ear to the ground about her. Hell, maybe he was upstairs, watching her on that damned camera. She hated not knowing.

Then he'd come back and sit down next to her and talk like they'd known each other forever. She needn't say much; he seemed to love the sound of his own voice. She just nodded and attempted to pay attention.

He brought her three meals a day, her water pitcher was always full, and as far as she could tell he'd never drugged her. She played timid, like she enjoyed their conversations, like she appreciated him for all he was doing, and she no longer fought him when he kissed her cheeks or touched her face. She really wanted to believe she wasn't scared of him anymore, and that she was just angry.

He seemed to be in a state of delusion. He believed he loved her, believed she reciprocated those feelings. What she was afraid of was the day she wouldn't be able to keep up with that ploy any longer, and he gave her a reason to fear him.

* * *

He'd brought her clothes from her apartment, her brush, toothbrush…books, her CD player and even a small portion of her CD collection. She'd never heard of a kidnapper going to such lengths before, and it surprised her. 

He had taken her upstairs to shower numerous times since she'd been here, the first time being a day or so after she'd arrived here. She'd been surprised to find her brand of shampoo and soap sitting on the edge of the tub that first time.

When she'd gotten out of the quickest shower she'd ever taken, her amazement had doubled when she found the small cupboard under the sink stocked with everything she had in her own home. From the brand of headache medicine to the lavender scented candle. She had come to grips with the fact that he'd been in her home, that he'd watched her sleep, but the fact that he knew what she kept under her sink; well that had creeped her out beyond words. There are just some things a person assumes are private.

When she had come out of the bathroom holding the candle, Nity had just smiled at her. "I know it's not yours…and I really wanted to get it for you, but those friends of your have your apartment sealed. I probably shouldn't go back there."

She had felt amazing relief at those words. They knew she was gone, and they knew something wasn't right. They wouldn't let her down, they'd find her, all she had to do was hang on and she'd be alright.

But that had been forever ago.

* * *

Nity appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Sara? You need to go up?" he asked with a sweet tone to his voice, asking her if she had to use the bathroom. 

"Yeah." She sat down and held her ankle out to him. This had become part of their routine, but this time he threw in a twist. The gun was gone. She didn't remark on it and did well pretending she didn't notice that it wasn't there.

As they were climbing the stairs he smiled at her. "Would you like to spend some time up here with me today? It wouldn't be so hard to move the chain upstairs…"

"Really? I'd love that." Her mind raced, he only had one chain…he was going to have to move it…hopefully while she wasn't attached to the other end.

He stopped at the bathroom door. "Go."

As was routine, she had two minutes before he opened the door. As soon as she shut it behind her, she went straight to the window and pressed her hands against the cool glass, once again trying to see anything that would help her. Even in the quickly fading daylight, nothing moved and nothing changed. She wasn't sure why she even bothered looking anymore, except that she felt like it was her way to steal a moment, to pretend she was still free.

When he opened the door a minute and a half later she was flushing the toilet. "You done?"

"Yeah. Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything love."

"What day is it?"

He chuckled. "That wasn't the question I thought you were going to ask, but it's Friday."

Sara nodded. She'd been here for just over fifteen full days; it had been a Thursday when he'd taken her. "Can I have a clock?" The question blurted from her mouth before she realized how insane that actually sounded. "I mean…I'd like to know when I'm asleep, how long I've slept, that sort of thing." In truth it just scared her to never even know _when_ it was.

"A clock? I'll think about it ok? I'm not promising anything." He took her arm and led her back toward the basement.

"I thought I was going to sit up here for awhile." She tried to pull him to a stop but he was bigger and stronger then her.

"Well, you are, but we need to go get that chain first. Too many escape routes from up here." He winked at her like that had been his own personal joke. "As soon as we get it, we'll go watch a movie or play a board game. You seem kind of bored lately; I decided we need to do something to stimulate your mind a little." He grinned. "We don't want to waste that brain, dear Sara; it is one of your most beautiful assets…besides, of course, the obvious." He stopped, reached around behind her, and slipped his hand into the back pocket of her jeans.

She swallowed the immediate, almost primal urge to slap him that arose in her, and instead kept facing straight ahead, pretending that she didn't notice. This was something she'd endured a lot of the last few days, him touching her in small ways. But as long as she didn't flinch or pull away, he didn't turn it into something bigger. She silently wondered how much longer these little touches were going to be enough for him. She had started praying frantically to a god she wasn't sure she trusted that her friends would find her before he escalated to that.

As they reached the basement door he stopped. "That's right. You haven't seen this yet." He grinned as he moved her to the counter beside the door. With a quick flip of his wrist he had a set of handcuffs. One end was already attached to a metal bar hanging on the wall. "See, I really did think of everything." He had her wrist in the cuff before she could find the words to protest. "Wait here."

He started down the stairs and Sara stared in disbelief at her hand. How did he manage to acquire all this stuff without raising some flags? Chains, prison quality wall mounts, handcuffs? It was ridiculous, people got hauled in to the police station every day for buying numerous packets of cold medicine, but hell, just let them buy chains and handcuffs. No need to ask questions; obviously they just have a kinky side. She rolled her eyes. Great. Who knew what else he had up his sleeve? She slumped against the counter. This was one hell of a sticky situation. It was becoming painfully clear that this hadn't been some spur of the moment decision to finally act on his obsession. This had been carefully thought out and planned.

She heard him coming back up the stairs and stood up straight. He appeared with the chain in tow. "I was going to get a few more of these…but then I decided that it would be cheaper to just attach some handcuffs around, for when I needed to move you." He stopped in front of her and set the heavy chain down. "So, what do you want to do? I need to know where to hook this up."

"Can I go outside?" She looked at him and actually managed a small smile.

"Uh, no. Sorry dear, but that is a no-no. I don't need the neighbors to see you chained to a tree in my yard. That'll get the cops over here fast. You're funny." He giggled childishly.

Sara was almost ecstatic with the knowledge that he had neighbors. That meant that if she managed to get away, she would have somewhere to run. She let that thought play in her head until she realized that he was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to respond. "I try." She shrugged.

He again laughed at her. "I think we should go watch a movie. Does that sound good to you?"

"Sure. Why not?"

* * *

After he had attached the chain securely to the pole in the family room, he came back and flipped through a small set of keys he wore around his neck. Finding the one he was looking for, he used it to unlock the handcuffs. As he led her through the dimly lit house, Sara shuddered. Having not spent a lot of time up here, she had never really seen how creepy it actually was. 

She knew the basement like the back of her hand. From the way it smelled, to the eighty-seven cracks in the ceiling, and which steps creaked when he was coming down. She knew when the spiders were at work, because she noticed every new web that formed across the darkened windows. She could tell by the clanging of the old pipes whether he was using the bathroom, running the sink in the kitchen, or using the shower. After only two weeks, she knew the thump of the furnace kicking in, and the soft dripping of water from a pipe somewhere she could not see. She had even, almost anyway, been able to tell the difference between night and day by the shade of black on the windows. When the sun shined down on them, they became almost gray instead of the midnight black they were when the sun went down. She had been staring at them day in and day out, wishing for the sight of sunlight to pass through. To remind her that she was still alive.

But up here, in the main part of the house, things held the same dingy feeling they did in the basement. It was a different kind of uneasiness that filled her here. Strange as it sounds, the basement had become her home. Not home in the sense that she wanted to live there, no; but home in the sense that it was her comfort area. Even having been chained to a pole, she felt a level of control when she was down there. It was her territory, and she could feel relatively safe there. Down there, she knew how things worked. When he sat in the chair beside her, it meant he'd had a long day, and he wanted her to listen. Those were the easy moments. When he just sat there, rocking and talking, almost to himself. When he stood over her, as she lay sleeping (or pretending to), she knew that she should not acknowledge him…for whatever reason, she was aware that if he knew that she knew he was standing there; there would be trouble to pay. The worst moments came when he would force her to lay beside him, and he would hold her like a man holds a woman. Close, whispering secrets in her ear - dark scary secrets.

The first time he'd done this, Sara had fought back. That had gotten her nothing except a black eye and another lessoned learned. The lesson being that, when she'd lost the ability to run, she'd lost the necessity to fight. She could hit him back, and she could scream and bite and kick. But in the end, she was still his. She was still attached to the pole, with no way to get away. So it was better to just let him do what he wanted to do, string him along; let him believe that she was done fighting, until the day came where the ability to run was given back to her.

He had attached the chain to a pole beside the couch. When he pointed to it, she sat. She kept trying to convince herself that this act of submission was just that: an act. But she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to believe it. She tried to believe that she was still strong and still courageous. That this was all just a game of pretend to get him to trust her, to relax the restraints. But if she wanted to be honest with herself, it was almost more that she just didn't want to fight anymore. She was tired of getting hit, scared of how far he might take it the next time. She was convinced that he would snap and kill her. So she was docile. Underneath the nonchalant attitude she presented to him, and the steel-like exterior she portrayed, Sara Sidle was scared. Really scared.

He sat down beside her and smiled. "So, what do you want to watch?"

"What've you got?"

"Almost anything. Drama? Romance? Action?" He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Adult? No, I know, for my little comedian…we'll watch a comedy."

"Sure." She shrugged. "I could use a good laugh."

When he moved to the TV and started the movie, Sara recognized it as one she'd seen a year or so previously. She'd rented it on one of her rare nights off. "I like this one."

"I know. You rented it for a full five days, instead of your usual two." He flipped the overhead lights off, leaving a low watt bulb burning in a lamp beside her.

It had ceased to amaze her exactly what he knew about her. She just figured he knew everything. The first time he says 'I didn't know that.' - now that will shock her. Apparently the life she believed had been so private had been more open then she thought.

Had been. She'd used past tense.

Did that mean she'd already given up? Or that she considered that to be her old life?

As Nity continued talking about the movie, she went back to her own thoughts. She'd never been one to give up, never been one to quit. But it had been so long, and just because she wasn't technically a cop didn't mean she didn't know how it worked. People had to quit eventually. Everyone had their breaking point. It had been two weeks and Nity had never even seemed concerned that they were on to him. After two weeks it was very likely that her case had grown cold. It was even possible that they were now just waiting for her body to be found. She didn't want to think like that, that her friends had given up. But if their roles were reversed…how much faith would she have left that they would find a survivor instead of a corpse? Not a lot. The answer to her own question rocked her.

* * *

As the movie played out, Nity began twirling her hair between his fingers. At first she pretended not to notice, but when his fingers started brushing against her cheek she immediately went on high alert. He'd touched her a lot in the last weeks, but this one was different. He seemed almost unsure. Her heart rate picked up and she tried hard to control her breathing, lest he know that she knew what was coming. 

As she sat there, upright and tense, he let go of her hair and traced his fingers down her neck. An involuntary shudder coursed through her, and he chuckled. "You like that?"

Using his other hand he turned her face towards him. She closed her eyes and couldn't help the disgusted look that formed on her facial features. "No."

"I've waited so long Sara. Do you know what six years of wanting can do to a person? It's torture. So many nights I would stand over you, watching you. Wanting you. But I was so patient. And patience deserves a reward. Don't you think?"

"I think you're sick." She opened her eyes and met his in time to see them flame with anger.

"Sick? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He had his nose to hers now and his hands were holding her face still. "Tell me. I think I have the right to know."

It had been the anger and the courage she thought she'd lost that had made her speak up in the first place. Now she felt those things dissipating faster then she could believe. She jerked her head back away from him and attempted to stand in a natural response to run, but he caught her around the waist and pulled her back down so she was sprawled half across him. She brought her hands up to either fight him off or fend him off…depending on her nerves.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it!" She gasped as her nerves failed her.

"TELL ME!" His face was turning an ugly shade of red and his voice was higher in pitch when he was yelling. He attempted to grasp her wrists but she wriggled to pull them away and somehow managed to push herself back into a sitting position. When he stood up and glowered over her, she felt her walls wavering and tears threatened to fall. "You're just like everyone else, aren't you? Think I need to see a shrink? That there's something wrong in my head? You are wrong, dear Sara. So wrong."

"N..no..no. That's not what I said…I meant you…."

"Shut up! I KNOW what you meant! You shouldn't talk to me like that…you know the price you'll have to pay. As much as I hate doing it, it's in the rules. You must be punished for disobeying me. Bitch!" He punctuated the last word with a blow to her jaw.

Suddenly Sara's world was dipping into an ocean of darkness. The overwhelming urge she felt to just give into the pain and swim away was unlike anything she'd experienced before. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that if she slipped into the beckoning waters, that she would be completely defenseless against him. But as he hit her again and a rainbow of color met the darkness at the edges of her vision, she just stopped caring. Anything to make the pain stop. She tasted her own blood on her lips and though she knew that it should concern her, she was just unable to dredge up the willpower to give a shit. So he killed her. So what? It was better then living as a prisoner for the rest of her life.

She felt herself slipping off the couch and onto the raggedy carpet of the floor. She brought her hands up instinctively to shield her head, but that didn't stop him. One foot made solid contact with her abdomen and then she couldn't breathe. She tried to curl herself into a ball, but found that just moving made the pain worse, made it burn so intensely that it sucked what little breath she had managed to pull into her lungs, back out.

"Stop." She choked out one word, hoping that he'd listen. He'd never been this mad; it had never been as bad as this.

"Damn you!" He kicked her harder this time and she let out a small gasp. When he reached down, grabbing her by her hair, and hauled her to her feet, Sara almost passed out again. He forced her to a seated position on the couch and then let loose a scream that sounded a wild animal. "WHY? WHY? WHY MUST YOU RUIN THINGS? I JUST WANTED TO WATCH A MOVIE WITH YOU! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SUCH A BITCH!" With one quick swipe of his hand, he knocked the lamp off the stand beside the couch and the room sank into darkness as the bulb broke.

She heard his footstep as he walked away from her. The muttered curses as he stormed through the house. She felt rather then heard the front door slam as he rushed through it to get outside. Once the rest of the house fell silent, only her sobs were heard echoing through the rooms. And then there was nothing as she slipped into the warm dark solace of unconsciousness.

* * *

**Sorry this chapter got a little violent...I just needed to remind you that even if he is so infatuated with her, that he is indeed still dangerous. Come on now. Hit that button. It's a strange purple color and it's calling your name. Click it... btw, this is me attempting to hypnotize you and make you LEAVE ME SOME FEEDBACK! I thrive on it! Without it, my muse just might disappear never to return...he likes feedback more then caffiene...which is saying something.**


	6. Chapter 5

Title: Stalked - Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Of course they're mine. Duh. I'm also really a five foot squirrel who likes to play poker on the weekends.

Authors' Note: Long story short? Writer's block. I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. Give props to my ever patient Beta, Sol! Now read, and then leave me some of that wonderful feedback. I love all of you who have! And I'll love all of you that will:o) Promise!

* * *

Nick closed the file in front of him and stood. Stretching his arms above his head he started pacing around the room, not in a nervous pattern, but in an attempt to work out some of the kinks in his muscles and some of the kinks in his mind. 

These last two weeks since Sara had disappeared had been hard on everyone, but he could not seem to shake the feeling that he could have found her if he had only tried harder; worked harder. He'd taken on the brunt of her active cases after... because he felt that if he couldn't solve _her_ case, then he should at least be solving the cases she couldn't.

Every time he opened a file filled with her handwriting, her take on the case, he felt like he was as lost as she was. It wasn't fair to the victims in these cases for him to be so distracted and he hated that he was, but he couldn't stop his memory from flashing back to her hunched over a desk scribbling notes in her almost illegible handwriting. How eager she got when she was on to something. It wasn't fair that that spirit had been taken away.

He didn't want to think like that; assuming she was dead, but he'd been doing this job a long time. Long enough to know that even when a hostage was taken for the purpose of fulfilling a desire or a fantasy, it didn't mean they lasted long. Nobody could ever live up to the expectations of a psychopath. They, almost as a rule, see their victims not as people, but as idols worth worshipping. And when that idol fails to live up to those standards, it angers the perp. And they always overreact when they find out that the person they thought was perfect, really isn't.

After Grissom and Greg had realized that he'd come back for her things; her clothes were missing, toothbrush, hairbrush... other random things, he'd felt a renewed sense of hope. She hadn't been taken to kill. A week ago, the manager for her apartment complex had called looking for her, wanting to know why her utilities had been shut off. When they called the utility companies, they discovered the order to have them turned off had been put in the same day she was taken.

Her phone was no longer working, lights, water, cable...the same order had been put in for every single one. Only the cable company had been recording calls that morning, and upon listening to the tape they learned that it had been a man, requesting that his sister's cable be shut off as she was ill, and would be staying with him for awhile.

Her bank accounts hadn't been touched, nor her credit cards used. It was like she had dropped off the face of the earth. Every time Nick thought about how scared she must have been, he got angry. Like now, as he was pacing around the small room, when he realized he'd just thought of her in the past tense.

He needed out...OUT. Or he might just put his fist through the glass of the walls that were closing in on him. They'd dusted her apartment for prints, and every single time another one came back to her, he had to fight the urge to just swipe the monitor to the floor.

He'd always thought he had good control over his emotions, over his actions. But it seemed like anything could set him off lately. It was a combination of too much stress from the pile of new cases, too much worry about Sara, and too many nights spent awake staring at his bedroom ceiling. He wasn't ok. This wasn't ok. It surprised him how off balance he felt...he knew Sara had been his friend...had been...there was that tense again...but he could never have imagined this feeling of loss.

This wasn't getting those kinks out. In fact, it was making them worse. He slammed his way out the door. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he made his way quickly toward the exit. He needed to get outside, he needed to calm down. This wasn't like him and it was scaring him.

As he was pushing his way out the building's front door, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Spinning around he glared at Greg, who was looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "Nicky...what is going on?"

"Nothing Greggo, leave me alone ok?" He opened the door fully and stepped outside. He closed his eyes and sucked in a lungful of fresh air, his hands on his hips and his face turned upwards toward the sky. "Dammit Dammit Dammit..."

"Nicky..." Greg was still standing behind him. "Talk to me buddy..."

"Talking isn't going to fix what's wrong with me."

"No, but it might help."

Nick brought his hands up and rubbed them over his face. "Do you think we did all we could?"

Greg knew immediately what he was talking about. "Yeah. I do. We gave her all we could...hell, we're still giving her all we can."

"But is it enough?"

"It kinda has to be."

Nick turned to face the other man. "Losing my temper isn't going to help anyone."

This time Greg reached out and touched Nick's arm. "We're gonna find her. It's only been two weeks...she could still be alive...there have been cases of people missing for years only to be found alive and well. We'll get her back."

Nick felt tears threaten to fall and quickly cleared his throat. He'd realized yesterday that he hadn't cried. He hadn't let himself acknowledge the loss of a friend yet. He'd taken that as a sign of optimism, but maybe it was just denial. He smiled at Greg. "Ahhh, Greg, the group's eternal optimist." He turned and started back toward the building. "Thank you. I've got to get back to work."

* * *

Greg watched his friend walk back into the building and almost ran in after him. To tell him that he wasn't that much of an optimist, to tell him that he woke up on a nightly basis with nightmares that consisted only of the images of Sara hurt, scared, dying...and the last two nights, of Sara dead. No, he wasn't optimistic about the outcome at all. He'd seen all the horrendous things that people can do to one another...he was painfully aware that she was, in all likelihood, dead. And like Nick, he felt that he should have done more.

It was like a waiting game now. The few leads that they'd had over the first few days, had taken them nowhere. There had never been a ransom, and they'd had her apartment under surveillance for the first week, and he had never come back. He hadn't left any prints in her home, or none that they had found. Nobody had seen anything; nobody knew anything...the case was cold. Ice cold, and now it felt like they were all just waiting for her body to turn up. They all expected it to.

It was his day off, but like every day in the last two weeks, he was here off the clock, giving his time to find her. When he was at home, his mind was here anyway. After the first full day of attempting to do anything but worry, he'd given in and came to the lab. Hoping, like always, that that day would be the day that they got a break. That it would be the day that this emotional roller coaster would finally pull back into the station. One way or another...he wasn't sure anyone here could take this anymore.

Nick was flying off the handle at everyone, Warrick had lost his sarcastic edge, Catherine spent more then the usual amount of time arguing with Grissom...and Grissom, well Grissom just might never be the same again.

As for himself, he'd personally never felt more driven. Sara's case had become his obsession. Chasing down imaginary leads, repeatedly picking through evidence that had already been picked to death, hoping he'd missed something. That this time there would be something there that he hadn't seen. And every time he was disappointed. The evidence was scarce to begin with. Two tapes, one contained the blurry image of a man leaving her car at the airport; one holding the voice of the man who had Sara. It was that voice that narrated Greg's dreams at night.

There wasn't much else to go on, and if he was honest with himself, he didn't really expect that to change. He just hated sitting around his apartment trying to not think about it. He didn't know if he was ever going to get over losing her.

He'd admit to having a high school-like crush on her. Who wouldn't? She was beautiful. And smart. She'd taught him a lot of things these last couple years, and she had no idea how much he appreciated it. Had it not been for her patience, her ability to laugh things off, he might not be here right now.

Now he wished he'd taken just a moment to tell her how important she was. To tell her how much he cherished her. Maybe it was true; you don't know what you have until you lose it. He started out working under her, as her student, and slowly but surely she'd pulled him up until he was working beside her...as her equal. He'd loved her smile when he'd remembered something she'd said...something she did. She'd been proud of him...proud of herself. And that had made him feel good. And God did he miss her.

He missed the way she rolled her eyes at his stupid jokes. And the way that she stifled her laughter when something wasn't supposed to be funny. The way she had crinkled her nose at his choice of lunches, but had never made him feel guilty for the greasy hamburgers he favored. Sara had such a good soul; it wasn't fair that it had been taken away so prematurely.

He started towards the evidence lab, preparing himself both mentally and emotionally for what he knew lay ahead; another day of picking through Sara's things. Things from her home that had, at first, held a delicate trace of her. Everything from inside her apartment had held her scent, everything had been hers. Now, every time he looked at it, all he saw was evidence.

It was strange, because at first, that was all he had wanted...to be able to look at things and not see her. Now it felt like he had lost her when he couldn't feel her anymore. He wasn't sure if that made any sense. They were just things...he couldn't really feel her when he touched them to begin with, but he had felt connected to her. Now he didn't. Like the imaginary ties between her and her stuff had been clipped. It was ridiculous, how strange the whole thing was.

As he walked into the evidence locker, he saw Catherine standing at the desk, collecting the box that he'd come to claim. "Hey Catherine...what're you doing?"

She turned around quickly. "Oh, Greg. I've got some time...I just thought I'd look through this again. See if I see anything I missed the first time around."

"I doubt both you and I missed the same thing..."

"What're you doing here Greg? Isn't today your day off?"

"Yeah it is, but I've been coming in to help with..." he pointed to the box.

"Go home Greg. Burning yourself out isn't doing anyone any good. Give yourself a break." She held up the box. "Let someone else try."

He nodded slowly. "I know. But when I go home...I feel like I should be here."

Catherine walked toward him and set a hand on his shoulder. "We all do Greg. I've got this for today. You don't have to go home...but you need to let someone else carry this burden for one day. Ok?"

He sighed. "I have a couple friends I've been neglecting. Maybe I'll go spend the day with them."

"Good. Have fun ok? She'd want you to." He nodded and turned around walking out the door with her. They parted ways and he headed back outside, fighting the urge to follow her to the layout room.

* * *

Catherine set the box on the table and started pulling things out. A dirt sample from the backseat of Sara's car was the first thing she looked at. Given the almost obsessively clean state that Sara kept her car in, the dirt was likely from the bottom of the kidnapper's shoe. They had had it analyzed, learning nothing from it except that at some point in the day, he had been on someone's lawn. Whether it was his own or someone else'sshe couldn't be sure.

Most likely it was a dead lawn, due to the low nutrient content in the soil sample. Unfortunately this wasn't unusual in Vegas because of the low humidity and the high temperatures. People who didn't water their lawns on a fairly regular basis were usually rewarded with brown or yellow grass.

She sighed as she set it aside. This felt hopeless. She hated to say she'd given up, she was a woman who hated to admit failure, but if it were any other case, she would have called it by now. She didn't know if it was because she considered the younger girl a friend; or because if she did file it away, she'd have the rest of her team to deal with - but she just couldn't shelve this one.

She reached into the box and pulled out another dirt sample, this one from Sara's car tires. Analysis of it had showed them nothing except that whatever route he'd taken on the way to the airport had contained loose gravel, which again, wasn't unusual in Vegas... especially during the summer months when main roads were under construction. Catherine herself had taken to driving on these roads on the way to work, to avoid the construction.

She set it down on the table next to the other sample and reached into the box again, this time pulling out a file containing photographs of the inside of the vehicle and of Sara's apartment. Included in these photos was a close-up of the gun imprint and shots taken after the inside of the car had been fumed. These shots showed obvious swipe marks where prints had been wiped away. The shots of the apartment included pictures of the locks; none jimmied, the empty refrigerator, and her closet, among others.

Catherine hated the fact that Sara's whole life was on display. It felt like an invasion of privacy every time she flipped through these photographs. Nothing was sacred when the CSI's got involved. She moved to set the photographs aside when something caught her eye. A picture she'd seen a hundred times...stared at endlessly for the first two days...and she'd never noticed? It could mean nothing, or it could mean everything. She grabbed the photo and almost bolted from the room.

Halfway to Grissom's office, still staring at the picture in her hands, wondering how the hell she'd missed it for so long, she was stopped by Warrick as she walked right past him without once looking up.

"Something's got your attention. Share?"

She glanced up, noticing him for the first time. "I've got to show Grissom..."

"He's not here. I was talking to him and he got a phone call. Said a few choice words that I never thought I'd hear coming out of his mouth, and took off."

"Sara?"

"No. I don't think so. He seemed pissed as opposed to upset."

Catherine nodded. "Good. Well then, you look at this." She held the picture out for him to take. As he did, his fingertips brushed hers. "Do you see what I see?"

The picture was of Sara's apartment, the area around the door. "What am I supposed to be seeing here Cath?"

She pointed. "Look."

"I don't see anything out of place..."

Catherine released an exasperated sigh. "The box..."

"It's a box Catherine...probably a donation to goodwill or something."

"No...look. What's in the box?"

He grabbed a magnifying glass off the desk next to him. "Clothes...a candle...shampoo..." he stopped and looked up. "Those aren't the sort of things you donate."

"Exactly. I think this guy, whoever he is, was there shortly before we were. I think we interrupted him while he was gathering more of Sara's things."

"How did we miss this for two weeks? Why didn't we notice it as being so out of place? When was he there? And what does it change?"

"I don't know how we missed it. I've gone over it numerous times, Greg has gone over it and he was actually in the apartment. Grissom didn't see it for crying out loud...he was there, and that man sees everything." She paused. "He had to have been there between Sara going missing and Greg and Grissom going in. There's a good chance he was actually there at the same time they were...maybe taking a trip to the car, and saw them going in so he ran." She took a deep breath, and smiled as she continued with her quick explanation. "But if our guy thought he was taking it with him, but never got a chance...it's very likely he wasn't as careful when touching it or the stuff inside it. And it's almost guaranteed that he didn't wipe any of it down like he did in the rest of her apartment."

"And if he didn't wear gloves..."

"We don't think he did. We've got a lot of partials, smudges, and wiped down prints in her apartment, nothing solid enough to make a match with, but enough to know they're not hers." She turned from him. "Run with it Warrick. Find that box. I've got to go find Grissom."

* * *

Warrick headed directly to the storage room where they kept larger pieces of evidence. He hoped they had collected the box and brought it back here. He was flipping through the list of things they'd collected and he could almost feel his excitement building. For the first time in almost two weeks, they had something that might actually lead them somewhere.

He'd all but given in to the fact that she was gone. For good gone. He had never been one to dwell on things and he didn't plan to start now. Hell, that was a lie. He was just trying to prepare himself for the phone call that took him to her body. Now, for the first time since she'd disappeared he felt a reason to be hopeful. The case technically belonged to Nick, Greg, and Grissom. But he knew he wasn't the only one with a copy of the file at his home.

He found the entry for the box of things and went directly to where they had it stored. Snapping on a pair of gloves he pulled it from the shelf. As he was walking from the room, Nick came up beside him.

"Catherine told me you might have something new on Sara."

"That's what we're hoping. Catherine noticed that this box looked a little out of place. Where did she go? This should be hers to run with."

"She's looking for Grissom. Said to start without her, she'll be along. Sent me to help."

"Well then, let's get started."

They'd been sorting through the box in silence for a good twenty minutes, tagging some items and dusting others for prints, finding a few that looked too big to be Sara's and clear enough to help them.

Warrick was thinking he should go get a computer search started on them when Nick spoke up. "Where's Catherine?"

Warrick pulled his nose from the shampoo bottle he was dusting and looked around. "I dunno. Better question? Where's Grissom? I expected him to come racing in here and take over."

"Think I should go look for them?"

Warrick sighed. "Probably. But hurry though; we should get some of these running…"

Nick nodded in agreement. "I'll be back…give me 15 minutes ok?"

"Run boy." Warrick let out a laugh that sounded foreign even to him. It was easier to relax when they had new leads forming.

* * *

Stopping and asking every other person he saw if they had seen Catherine or Grissom, he was soon directed towards the parking lot, where according to three lab techs just coming on shift, Grissom and Cath were making quite a scene.

Nick had just raised his eyebrows at this. He knew both of his friends well enough not to believe the story the techs were telling… but stress did make people do stupid things. He took off for the parking lot.

When he arrived, he looked around quickly, not seeing them. He was about to turn back into the building when he heard Grissom's voice. My God, the man was actually yelling.

"No Conrad. You cannot." When Nick finally spotted his boss, he was shocked to say the least. His face was red and there was a hoarseness to his tone that Nick could only blame on his having been yelling for quite awhile now.

Catherine was standing near him, shaking her head like she had given up trying to calm him down. In fact, she almost looked like she was trying to get away…Grissom was wielding a sign and looked about thirty seconds away from smacking Ecklie over the head with it.

"Dr. Grissom! You need to relax or go home!" Ecklie was returning Grissom's shouts with his own. "This is not my fault. We need the space!"

Nick stood there in disbelief. All this over a parking space? He walked over to Catherine and touched her shoulder. "What the hell?"

Catherine sighed and looked at Nick. "They're trying to reassign Sara's spot. Somehow Grissom got wind of it…" She waved her hand in his direction. "Obviously he's not taking it well."

"Obviously…" He walked away towards Grissom. "Hey. Grissom!"

"Get back to work Nick. This doesn't concern you."

"Did Catherine tell you we've got a new lead on Sara?"

Grissom whirled around to face him, the angry blue flame in his eyes slowly being doused by hope. "Really?"

"Prints. So far three clear sets. Warrick's running them now." He reached out and quickly disarmed the man of his strange metal weapon. "Ok? You good now?"

"I wasn't going to hurt him." Grissom's shoulders slumped and all at once he suddenly looked his full 50 years. "But what's she going to think when she gets back and we've given away her space? She'll think we gave up, that's what."

"And then we'll tell her that we didn't. That Ecklie did." He tried on a smile, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt. "She'll have expected that."

Grissom ran one hand through his hair and stood up straight, looking over Nick's shoulder. "Catherine? Isn't it your job to stop me before I start going off the deep end?"

She walked over. "I'll remember that for next time."

And just like that, like nothing had happened, Grissom started for the building. "Are you going to show me where you found those prints? And explain to me how we missed them for two weeks?"

Nick almost had to laugh as he set the parking sign down. He was turning away to follow the other two back into the building when something caught his eye. "Grissom! Catherine!" He picked the sign up again as they turned around and started back in his direction.

"Another lead. I think Bill has Sara."

Grissom furrowed his eyebrows. "Who?"

"Serial criminal…Sara's cases. Left dollar bills at his scenes?"

"Why would he want her?" Catherine looked confused. "She wasn't anywhere near catching him."

"No, listen to me. I think that he committed those crimes to get her attention."

Now Grissom looked confused. "Nicky, slow down. How did you come to that conclusion?"

Nick pointed to the sign, a childish grin spreading across his face. "These numbers identify her parking space. Nobody else has the same numbers."

"Your point?" Grissom had an eyebrow raised.

"Bill marked one of his bills with these exact numbers. In this order." Nicks excitement was building. "And she was taken while in her car. We all assumed she was taken sometime AFTER she had driven away from the lab…but what if he was waiting for her here?"

"Someone would have seen something Nick…" Catherine hated to pop his bubble, but a successful abduction in a lot full of police vehicles? Awfully risky.

"Maybe someone did." Nick threw a look over his shoulder at the surveillance cameras watching him.

Grissom turned towards the building. "Let's get those tapes."

* * *

**Come on now, don't make me beg. REVIEW! Hit that little purple button and tell me what you thought. Please! With ice cream and cookies and a whipped cream with a perfect cherry on top? I'll even throw in sprinkles. I thrive on reviews... it makes my day when I open my email and find out ya'll have been reading while I was away! Even if you want to flame me. Just be nice about it! And I was the moron that had unregistered user reviews shut off. I've since enabled it - so REVIEW!**


	7. Chapter 6

Title: Stalked - Chapter 6

Disclaimer: When I start getting paid, I'll let you know. Until then I can't afford you to sue me - so please - don't. I'm not claiming they're mine.

Authors' Note: Sol, seriously you rock. Sorry for the mess this was when I sent it to you! As for the rest of you - I LOVE YOU! You and all your reviews. Thanks! Now leave me somemore. I am a greedy greedy review monster. And I'm hungry. :o)

* * *

The dull ache throbbing through her head woke Sara abruptly. She grimaced slightly at the thought of opening her eyes, but when a wet cloth touched her forehead, they opened quickly of their own accord. A bright light assaulted her senses and she blinked rapidly to bring the room into focus. 

She was down in the basement again, lying on her side on the old dingy mattress. Nity was kneeling beside her with a concerned look on his face. "Good morning beautiful." His tone was soft and almost apologetic. "You had me worried."

Sara tried to sit up and pain rocketed through her ribs. Taking a deep, hissing breath through her teeth, she tried again. She sat up and met the eyes of her captor. "Leave me alone. Now."

He attempted to touch the cloth to her face again and she pulled back despite the loud protests of her ribs. "Sara… we have to clean these up."

Anger ran through her body and she shook her head at him. "No. _I_ have to clean these up. _You_ need to leave me alone."

"You're mad."

Sara started laughing. This man…he was so. God. She heard the maniacal sound in her laughter and for some reason it just made her laugh harder. Her lungs were screaming for air and her ribs felt like they were going to crack, but she couldn't stop. She had reached her breaking point. She had been acting like a victim; something she had promised herself she'd never do, and everyone probably thought she was dead. What better point to have a break down?

Nity was looking at her with an expression of deep concern on his face. "Sara? Are you ok?"

"No! That's the whole point. I'm NOT ok. And my not being ok is your fault. YOURS." She took a deep breath and tried without success to hold back the giggles that she couldn't explain. "I don't want to be here anymore! This is not my home, this is not my life, and I don't love you!"

Nity took a step back, shocked at her words. Surprising was the lack of anger Sara saw in his eyes. Instead he almost looked…sad. "But…Sara…but I love you."

Stifling her laughter and setting her forehead in her hands she realized that almost getting beaten to death changed a person. It had given her back the courage to fight, the strength to survive. She was better then her actions. She looked back at him. "No Nity. You don't." She stopped laughing and a small sigh escaped her lips. She was trying to reason with a psychopath.

"You can't tell me what I feel."

"Then you can't hurt me for what I don't." She met his eyes again and this time his gaze fluttered away from hers. He was ashamed.

"I…you…I…" He stammered. Turning on his heel, he walked quickly to the stairs. Without another word he took them two at a time and shut the door quietly behind him.

Sara heard the locks snap into place and laid herself back against the mattress. She sighed. Apparently all it took to remember how strong she had been was getting beat into unconsciousness. She wasn't going to forget again. Moping around and acting how he wanted her to act might keep her from getting hit, but it wasn't going to get her free.

She was strong. There were so many things in her life that she'd conquered. So many obstacles she'd gotten over. This was just one more.

She lifted her head and caught her fingers under the edge of her shirt, sliding a look towards the camera. Deciding that he was probably watching, she sat up and turned away, the chain around her ankle clattering loudly. As she lifted her shirt to display her abdomen she grimaced again.

A dark purple bruise covered her side. Using her fingers, she pressed down on it gently. A slow hiss escaped her lips as pain shot through the area like lightening. She wouldn't be surprised if she had a few broken ribs. "Damn you." She pulled the shirt down again and stood up slowly.

Turning to face the camera again she ran her fingers delicately over her face. Blood had dried in the corner of her mouth and along her hairline. She could feel at least four different lacerations. She sat down in the chair and picked up the bowl by the bed. She reached into the piss-warm water and grabbed the raggedy cloth. After wringing it out, she touched it to her face gingerly trying to erase both the fact that she'd let herself get beaten, and any evidence of it.

As she wiped down her face, she got used to the stinging pain and her swipes became less hesitant. Eventually she was pulling the rag across her wounds angrily. "Never again. You will not hurt me again."

When her face finally felt clean and the stinging had successfully cleared the dull ache from her head, she stood. She just didn't want to take this anymore. She walked over to the nearest window; still darkened by the layers of paint Nity had covered them with. She felt the bite in her ankle as she stretched her body to get as close to it as she could.

Looking around she spotted a nail protruding from the wall. She wanted to see outside. She needed to know that life was still going on. Grabbing the nail with the tips of her two middle fingers, she pulled with all she had. Her fingers slid off the nail, and a sharp pain quickly attacked her nerve endings as the head slipped roughly through her fingertips.

Ignoring it, she bit her lip and tried again. This time, the old wood gave it up and the small nail clattered to the ground. Smiling at a small triumph, she ignored the ache in her side as she bent over and picked it up.

Stretching her arm out to the window, she stepped her free foot as close as she could and with the tip of the nail scratched at the paint. Much to her delight, the paint came off easily and within a minute she had an area as big as the palm of her hand, from which she could see the outside. The night sky; dark with clouds covering even the brightest star, greeted her, but she was sure she had never seen a more beautiful sight.

She was ashamed of herself for not doing this days ago; at how weak she had been. That was not who she was. She was Sara Sidle. She was strong, and she was capable. With every breath she took, every pain she felt, she regained more of that strength. She was a survivor.

* * *

Nity stood in the center of his living room thinking. He had tried sitting, but he easily became restless. He had tried walking, but he always wound up back at the basement door. He couldn't believe what she'd said. He was mad. But more than mad, he was hurt. After all he'd done, after all he'd given up, she still didn't love him? But this was fate. This wasn't how things were supposed to work. 

He rubbed his hands over his face and felt himself crumbling. The one woman he ever loved. The one woman he thought would love him back… and she didn't. Perhaps he should have taken into account how much she loved this other man. When you love someone that much, maybe you just don't have room for anyone else anymore.

He wanted her to love him. That's all he wanted. He didn't want to hit her, to bruise her. He wanted to make her laugh; he wanted to be the one that she dreamt about. But he wasn't. Even when it was obvious she was having nightmares, it was this other man she called out for. Grissom. It was this man whose name she uttered in her sleep.

Pulling an untraceable prepaid cell phone from his back pocket, he dialed a number that he knew she knew by heart. The man answered after only two rings. "Grissom."

"She wants me to tell you she's still alive. For now." The man tried to say something but Nity hung up the phone and started back towards the basement.

* * *

Sara was sitting on the bed, facing toward the window when she heard the locks on the door snap back open. As quickly as her aching body would allow she got to her feet, quickly pocketed the nail and walked around to the other side of the mattress, settling herself quietly into the chair. 

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Sara noticed he had a strange look on his face, as though he was deep in thought. She didn't say anything, instead just rocked the chair in a squeaky rhythm, waiting for him to speak. She took notice of the phone in his hand and raised her eyebrows subconsciously.

"Why do you love him?" He raised the hand holding the phone toward her in a gesture that made her think whomever he was talking about was on the other end.

Those were not the words she'd expected to hear. "Love who?"

"Grissom. What makes him so worthy of your love?" Nity was staring at her now, his demeanor like that of an unsure child.

"I don't…I don't love him." She tilted her head to the side, obvious questions dancing through her eyes.

"Yes. You do. You can't deny it, I know you Sara. I know your dreams when you sleep, and I know your fantasies when you're awake. Haven't you caught on by now? I know everything about you." He slipped his hands, and the phone, into the front pockets of his jeans.

Sara swallowed fast. Attempting to reign in the emotions that were suddenly coursing through her was harder than she could imagine. "Am I that obvious?" She could never remember a time when she'd ever spoken her feelings, those feelings, out loud.

Nity shuffled his feet. "No. But when you take notice, I take notice." He looked at her and met her eyes. "And now I know why you can't love me. Because you already love him. But what I don't understand is why. He doesn't love you… he never has. Why do you…" Nity let the words trail off.

This wasn't a conversation she'd ever thought she'd be having with this man. It was just downright weird. "Umm. He's my friend you know? I trust him."

Nity nodded. "And trust is a big thing with you. You don't trust a lot of people." He almost looked pathetic.

It felt like a dam had been released on her emotions, and Sara found herself spilling over to the most unlikely person. "I do love him. He knows me, and he accepts me anyway. Faults and all."

Nity turned around again and headed back for the stairs. "Love is difficult. And it's hard to let go of. Even when the other person will never love you back." His voice was soft and for a second, Sara almost felt pity for this man. He had given a large portion of his life to her. True as it was that he had stalked her, taken her captive, and hurt her… and as completely crazy as Sara knew he was, she also knew what it was like to love someone and not have that feeling returned.

She almost said something but thankfully her mind regained some control over itself and she stopped. The last thing she needed to do was to make him start thinking that he had a chance again.

She didn't know why the hell she'd opened up even as much as she had. He'd asked. And that is probably the only reason. For the last two weeks, her only real thoughts had been of Grissom. Of how much time she'd been wasting, never just coming out and saying, "I love you."

She wasn't sure she'd ever get the chance to say it, or how he would react if she did. But if this had taught her one thing, it was that sometimes the repercussions of speaking your mind were worth it. She just hoped she got the chance.

It was hard for her to believe that she'd actually come to a sort of agreement with her captor. It was hard to think of him as a man whose feelings she'd hurt. She didn't want to think of him like that. She wanted to be able to hate him. To fight him. She wanted to know that if she had to, she could kill him to save herself.

* * *

After the sun came up, Nity started moving quietly around the house. He'd been thinking all night, and he wasn't sure he was exactly happy with the conclusion he'd come to. 

Now he stood at the top of the stairs, on the other side of the closed door. He leaned against it and sighed. He couldn't let her go. He didn't want to let her go. But at the same time, he didn't want to make her stay if she didn't want to stay. For probably the first time in his life, he felt real guilt. And he didn't like it. Not one bit.

He walked away from the basement and toward the front door. He was in a bind. He couldn't let her go, he loved her, and he didn't want to go to prison. He couldn't keep her, he knew now that she'd never be happy with him. That only left him with one option. He had to kill her.

Just the thought brought tears to his eyes and he swiped them away angrily. This wasn't fair! Why couldn't she just be happy with him? Why wasn't he good enough? He didn't want to kill her. He just wanted to be with her. He kicked a foot into the door and punched a fist into the wall. This wasn't supposed to be happening like this.

He reached out and opened the door, stepping back as he came face to face with a man about his age. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Nitlinan Bergsten."

"Can I ask what for?" Anger tinged his voice and Nity fought hard to control it.

"We would just like to ask him a few questions."

"He's not here. Can I have him call you when he gets home?" Nity lied, and fought hard against the panic growing in his chest.

"That would be good. Thanks." The man handed him a card, turned around, and stepped down off the porch, before climbing into his car and pulling away from the curb. Nity followed him with suspicious eyes before he flipped the card over and read the front.

Andrew Kensington – Department of Motor Vehicles

Nity chuckled with relief and crumpled the card in his fist. Just another surveyor.

He pulled the door shut behind him as he left the house, turning around just long enough to lock three heavy deadbolts behind him. There was work to do. He had to do something about Sara.

Walking slowly, he entered his garage and got into his car. Using the electric door opener he quietly rolled the door up. As he started the engine, he thought about what he had to do today. He had to figure out a way to kill her without causing her unnecessary pain. Then he needed a place to dump the body…he wanted her found, not lost forever. She deserved to rest in peace. But before he did any of that, he needed to plan his escape route.

* * *

Sara paced around the small area she had been living in with a frown plastered on her face. She didn't know if she should be worried by this change in his attitude, or happy. There was always the slim chance that he'd let her go… but the cop in her knew that, now that he knew she didn't want him, he would dispose of her. Her frown grew at the thought. It was moments like these that she wished she'd learned to keep her mouth shut. 

She walked around that spot for what felt like hours. Occasionally sitting, or even lying down, but that night, sleep refused to come. Sometime after daybreak she heard the front door slam. She sighed and forced herself to relax onto the mattress.

Thoughts of her friends filled her head. She wondered if they even missed her. She missed them. Did they worry about her? Had they yet assumed she was dead and moved on with their lives?

She didn't want to admit to herself the hope she still felt. That they'd find something; that they were still looking. That she'd be awakened in the night by the sounds of her rescuers. But those sounds never came. If a sound did awaken her, it was only Nity, coming down the stairs to stand over her and watch her dreams.

She was emotionally exhausted and physically drained, but she just couldn't shut off her mind. Nity was right about one thing. It was her greatest asset. Even as a child she had been able to outthink others and solve her way out of most problems. She'd been able to rationalize things, prioritize things, and wrap things up in nice neat little packages in the back of her mind. She always figured that if she kept things bundled where they belonged…nothing would cross over to anything else. She'd be able to keep work way from home and her past away from the present. And it usually worked.

But this time, she'd spent the last two weeks completely unable to wrap this one up. It had managed to spill itself over into every single area of her life. And try as she might, she couldn't get it all together to be able to look at it objectively. She couldn't help but think that Grissom would be disappointed in her. That he'd be shocked that she'd given in – given up, so easily.

And now that she wanted that strength back, things were such a mess in her own head that it was overwhelming. There was no easy way out of this. There was no magic key hidden in the wall, no neighbor to see her through the fist size viewer in the window, there was just her. She'd always been enough. She alone had conquered life so far. It had always just been her against the world. She used to think she liked it that way. Now she'd give anything for a friend to carry some of this burden with.

She smiled softly as she thought about her coworkers… her friends? Even after six years, the thought that maybe she had an entire group of people that she could count on… well, it was strange. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that somehow, over the course of many investigations, many many days working side by side with these people, she did consider them friends. And she thought that maybe they considered her a friend too.

Take Nicky for example. He liked to kid her about not sleeping, but behind those jokes, his tone was always just serious enough to let her know that he was really worried about her. She could imagine him now, getting mad at the blank walls, pacing around the lab, pretending not to be too worried, but not really being able to help himself. Nick was a good guy. And she knew he, at least, missed her.

Greg was always the one to make her smile. Even on days that she thought she couldn't. There was something about the way he could grin and laugh at almost any situation that had helped Sara feel optimistic about a lot of things. He was carefree without being irresponsible. Something Sara herself had never managed to do, until recently. Until Greg started to rub off on her. It also didn't hurt her ego that he had a crush on her. He was a charming man, and even though she couldn't reciprocate those feelings, she was honored all the same.

Warrick, her relationship with him had started out on the wrong foot, a gap put between them before they even met. But it had changed in the last few years. Before it had seemed that he'd never forgotten that she'd come here to investigate him. He'd held it over her head, until one day… it just seemed that something changed. Whether it had been him, or her perception of him, she might never know. But somehow, she'd started seeing him in a whole new light. He wasn't a man with a gambling problem anymore. He was a man with a past. Just as she was a girl with a past. And though it is your past that shapes you, it isn't all you are. They'd grown closer once she'd let him free of his past, and he'd realized she was just doing her job when she was called here. Things were getting better between them, and she hoped she got a chance to continue that friendship.

Catherine. There had always been a butting of heads between them. After all, criminalistics was still a man's sport, and being the two leading women, subconsciously they both had thought they had something to prove. It had taken a while for both to realize that they had each worked equally hard to get to where they were. They were both good at what they did, and they both were strong women. Put that together with the obvious clashing of opinions that is bound to happen in ANY job, and you have their complicated relationship. She trusted Catherine with her life. And she knew that if it came to it, that Catherine would always have her back, just as she would have Catherine's. Because that's what friends do. And for all their disagreements, that's what they were. Friends.

Sara rolled over and turned her head just right so she was rewarded with the sight of the sky, which had faded from morning bright to a pale afternoon blue. She sighed at the sight. It had immediately reminded her of the shade of Grissom's eyes. Grissom. She'd been avoiding thinking about him since her conversation with Nity. By confessing those feelings, even to that man, she'd willingly unwrapped that bundle. And every single time it was opened, it left her heart feeling vulnerable.

Unable to hold back the flood of thoughts anymore, she let her mind wander as the sky changed from that brilliant blue to the radiant pink and oranges. She thought about why she was in Vegas, and it was as simple as - he'd asked her to come. She hadn't even thought about it before she'd accepted. She had just wanted to be near him again.

She thought about the game they played, back and forth like a damn volleyball. But she was the only one who ever seemed to get hurt. Sometimes, she dreamt of those rare times when he'd looked at her, not like his subordinate, but like a friend. Like someone who cared. And it was always after those moments that she felt most vulnerable. Because no matter what Nity said to the contrary, she knew what she saw reflected back in his eyes. She saw the same hurt she felt; the same desires she had, the same fears. And she knew. He did feel the same for her as she did for him. And she knew that that knowledge scared him. It made him feel vulnerable too.

She imagined him now, or better, she imagined herself in his shoes. If it were her sitting at the lab, with nothing to go on, looking for him? She'd be a mess. And when the idea of him being permanently gone started niggling in the back of her mind? She'd try to shut it up, she'd fight it every step of the way until people around her started worrying. And when it finally was allowed to sink in that he might not being coming back, when she was forced to face it? She'd probably lose it. But somewhere in the deepest part of her heart, she knew she'd never stop looking. And she prayed he wouldn't either.

* * *

**The review button guys. Hit it. You'll earn my undying love. I promise. Please and Thank you!**


	8. Chapter 7

Title: Stalked - Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I have been informed that they stillain't mine. Thanks for pointing that out.

Authors' Note: **Sol, **you still rock. Thanks for the Beta! To my readers - you all rock too...even if for some reason, SOME of you refuse to leave a review. -pouts- Thanks to all of you that do review, I really appreciate it. The rest of you? I still like you. Just try leaving a review, it's fun, easy, and free. And I really enjoy it. :o) Hope YOU enjoy this chapter. And if you don't -I hope you tell me!

* * *

Catherine had taken five steps and was still trying to explain to Grissom why they hadn't printed the box of Sara's things, when she noticed he wasn't beside her anymore. Turning around, she saw him standing there with a look of shock on his face, staring down at his phone like it was a two-headed dog.

She realized she'd been rambling and making excuses for herself and the rest of the team, and she hadn't stopped doing so when the soft sound of the phone vibrating against his hip had filled the air. When he'd answered it, she'd kept walking and continued talking. If there was one person in this lab that could listen to two people talking at the same time, it would be Grissom. Besides, the excuses she had been making had been lame and she was really just trying to cover up the fact that they'd messed up.

She sighed as the seconds ticked by, and Grissom didn't move. "Grissom?" She walked up and stood in front of him. "Hey. You all right?" She waved a hand between his eyes and the phone, causing him to blink.

His eyes met hers and for reasons she couldn't explain, her heart jumped into her throat. His eyes had darkened and his mouth was just slightly agape. When he finally spoke, his tone was softer then usual; the pitch deeper than possible. "Sara…"

She reached a hand out and touched his arm and he flinched. He quickly folded the phone and reattached it to his hip. Then he cleared his throat. "She's not dead."

"Huh?" Catherine didn't know who had been on the other end of the line, but she was afraid it had been someone reporting that her body had been found.

He sent her a look that could either mean he was angry, or that he was repressing something. "Sara. She's not dead." There was a child-like quality to his voice now, and subconsciously Catherine wondered whether or not he was in denial.

"Gil, who was on the phone?" She was amazed that her voice wasn't shaking. Instead it held the same comforting, calm, and collected tone she used when Lindsey was upset or scared. She was using her mothering voice with Grissom, for crying out loud.

He met her eyes again and shrugged. "I don't know." He looked down at it still sitting silently against his hip. "Whoever has Sara, I imagine."

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "All he said was 'She wants me to tell you she's still alive. For now.'" His expression deepened. "No real reason to think he was talking about Sara. But who else would want me to know they're still alive?"

Catherine was too stunned to say anything. She again placed her hand on his arm, as much to steady herself as to try and stop Grissom's hopes from lifting so high that he'd break when they were pulled out from under him. When she found her voice again, she couldn't stop the doubt spilling from her lips. "Why would he call you? Why now? It doesn't make any sense… Unless…" She frowned. "Unless he doesn't want us to stop looking? But why?"

"So let's not. Quit, I mean. If he wants us to find her, then let's not let him down ok? Perhaps he's tiring of her, of the work it takes to care for and control another person – a person who is angry and scared. "

They reached Grissom's office and he walked behind the desk and sat down heavily before picking up his phone. "This is Gil Grissom. Listen, I had an incoming call to my cell about four minutes ago. I need all the information you can get me on it. Ok?" He rattled off his phone number and hung up.

He leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression on his face. "How're Nick and Warrick coming with those prints?"

"No hits yet, but AFIS is running." Catherine wasn't thinking about the prints. "So he's getting tired of looking after her… why call you and tell you to come get her? Why not kill her?" She watched as Grissom's face paled and he narrowed his eyes.

"Maybe he loves her… or at least thinks he does... It's Sara. She's easy to love." His face flushed pink when he realized the words he'd allowed to slip from his mouth.

Catherine raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. "Maybe he knows that if he kills her, the kidnapping sentence would go from just that, to homicide. The difference between 25 to life and the death penalty." She frowned. "But then why doesn't he just leave the country, call you and tell you where she is? He'd be gone, and she'd be safe… either way, I only imagine that Sara has his face burned into her memory by now. And his name probably... all the things it would take to get a conviction. Sara's a damn good CSI…I can't picture her not absorbing everything around her. Even under stress." She stopped, well aware of the pinched expression on Grissom's face. "I know you don't like talking about this because…"

"No, I don't." He cut her off. "Because she is a friend, she is a coworker, and she is one of the best CSIs this city's got. But the fact is, if I don't talk about this, discuss her case… I'm not doing her any favors." He stood. "Let's go give Nicky and Warrick a hand processing the rest of that stuff.

* * *

He walked into the fingerprint lab and stopped in the doorway, eyeing the items laid side by side across the counter. A light purple candle, a half empty shampoo bottle, and an Aspirin bottle. Sara's things. He sighed and walked up behind Nick, who was rubbing his eyes and staring at the ever-moving current of prints across the computer screen. "Whatcha got Nick?"

The younger man jumped at the sound of his boss' voice. "So far? Five sets of prints. All match each other – none are Sara's. I'm trying to find a match in AFIS, but it's been running for a while now with no hits. I'm not getting my hopes up." He sighed wearily and rubbed his palm over his face.

"The kidnapper called my phone about 15 minutes ago to tell me she wasn't dead." Grissom stated matter-of-factly.

Nick whirled around on the stool and there was a fierceness in his eyes. "What?"

"Sara's not dead Nick. We still have time, so these prints are still important. Ok? Don't give up on them. And having hope isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it's the only reason to get up in the morning." He turned away as he snapped on a pair of gloves.

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience." Nick had his brows furrowed together in a look of worry. "Something you want to talk about, man?"

Grissom shot him a tired smirk. "Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the music, and never stops at all." He had a wistful look on his face.

Nick surprised him by responding. "Emily Dickinson."

"Yeah." He turned back to face Sara's things. "Ok. So – we're waiting." He tried to find the patient part of himself that made him a good CSI. The part that KNEW computer searches were sometimes endless and painstaking. The part of him that understood that Nick was doing all he could and couldn't make anything move faster then it already was.

He couldn't help the anxious feelings settling themselves in his belly. After his talk with Catherine… he was worried. He felt like he's swallowed a couple handfuls of tiny aquarium rocks, and every time he thought about Sara, it felt like someone reached into the pit of his stomach and stirred them around.

He fought the sudden inexplicable urge to turn around and tell Nick exactly why they needed to find Sara. He suddenly wanted to tell someone the reason that had nothing to do with the lab, or anything else. It was simply because he needed her.

He'd spent the last six years hoping that someday he'd give up his foolish pride and allow himself to love her. Six years of hoping that she would still allow him to love her. Six years of watching her walk into the lab and laugh with the others around her. Six years of falling asleep with the sound of that laugher still ringing through his head. Six years worth of memories, of her reaching across him to grab a paper…of her meeting his eyes and smiling…of the burning sensation on his back as he walked away from her…of the times he let her walk away searing an identical hole into her back…all these memories setting his stomach on jumble and making his pulse race as he sat alone in his empty townhouse.

He turned back toward Nick with the confession forming on his lips. "Nick…I " He didn't get a chance to continue. The computer chirped twice, announcing that it had found a fingerprint match.

Nick grinned at him. "Hold that thought boss. We just might have somewhere to go." He reached the screen first and looked at it before he spoke, frustration filling his voice. "Uh…Grissom? We…we've got the prints of a dead man."

Grissom cocked his head in confusion and walked over to stand beside Nick. "What do you mean?"

"I mean just what I said…The prints came back to a Nitlinan Bergsten…deceased." Nick scrolled down the file. "Died in a house fire…same fire that killed his girlfriend – and his father." He glanced over at Grissom who was just standing there glaring the screen, grinding his teeth.

"How'd they ID the body?" The words came out in a low whisper.

"Uh…I don't know Grissom. This isn't the casefile." He read down a little further. "But here's something interesting." He paused and read on.

"What Nick?"

"Oh. His name has been flagged by the FBI."

"Huh?" Grissom couldn't hide his amusement. "The dead can't break the law…"

Nick shrugged. "Maybe I ought to give them a call. See what they want with our dead suspect."

Grissom was still frowning as he turned and walked away. "No, I'll do it." He sighed. "They respond better when they hear from the boss as opposed to his minions."

The door was falling shut behind him as Nick caught what he'd said. He shook his head in amazement. Did Grissom just crack a joke? "Hey. I'm nobody's minion." He defended himself to the empty room.

* * *

Grissom sat in his office, on hold with yet another person at the FBI office. He was alternating tapping his pen in an impatient tune and writing almost illegibly in the margins of his desk calendar. He'd been on hold six times, being passed from person to person. He looked at the clock. Twenty minutes since he'd dialed the phone. He was on the verge of banging his head against the wall when Warrick walked in.

"Still on hold?" He sat down in the chair across from Grissom.

"Yeah. I knew these guys were going to be a pain, but this is testing even _my_ patience." He rolled his eyes. "You find anything new?"

"Yeah…I got the casefile for our dead suspect…" He held up the file in front of him.

"And?"

"And the case was handled by a couple of rookies… both the lead investigator, and the lead CSI were fresh faces. Not a good combo." He sighed. "About five years ago, a fire broke out in the home of one…" He flipped through a couple pages. "Calvin Bergsten. Three bodies. The first belonged to Calvin, the second to his son's girlfriend – a Miss Natasha Dacotah. The last was the worst burned… not even enough to compare dentals to. Without enough evidence to ID him, they just took the melted ID from the wallet beside the bed and the fact that the body was found in bed with Miss Dacotah and made a bad ID." Warrick shrugged. "Messy case, messy evidence, and sloppy police work. I'm going to assume it was a case of mistaken identity when they ID'd him."

"Given the fact that those prints were only between two and three weeks old when we found them…I'd say that's a safe assessment. Is there anything in there that would point to why the FBI would be after him?"

"Nope. The fire was ruled an accident and the case was closed."

Grissom sighed as the elevator music continued playing softly in his ear. "Well…was the son living with his father at the time?"

Warrick flipped through the file again. "No. It appears he had inherited his grandfather's house when the old man died. That's the address he had on file – and that's the address they searched for him at, when they decided it was him in the fire. The house was sealed, but was eventually released again to the family after the case was closed."

"Ok so - a man goes missing, presumed dead. Why didn't he come back to say he was alive?" The elevator music continued playing, rubbing a nerve he thought he'd long ago gotten a handle on.

"Maybe he started the fire. The two rookies made a bad ID... maybe the fire was an arson and they missed that too? It could have been started to cover the fact that he'd just killed a man." Warrick stared at a spot over Grissom's head. "He comes home from work early - maybe he's staying with his father for some reason... Goes into his room and finds a strange man in bed with his girlfriend. Snaps. Things get out of hand... go bad. Or worse. Ends up killing his girlfriend and her lover. Starts the fire to cover it up." He paused. "And when he was assumed dead - he was really on the run. Took advantage of his own 'death'."

Grissom looked at him thoughtfully. "Then why draw attention to himself by kidnapping a member of law enforcement?"

Warrick nodded. "I think...I don't know. Maybe he didn't know Sara was a CSI. Or at least not a first. If we choose to believe that it's this 'Bill' guy, we also have to assume that all those cases were messages to her. Meaning he's been following her for - well, a while. He could have first seen her in the supermarket, or at a bar." He shook his head and shrugged. "I dunno Grissom."

Grissom frowned as a new song started playing, sounding like a bad hybrid of classical and jazz. "I'd really like to know what the FBI has interest in this for."

Warrick shot him a smile that was lacking in any emotion. "Yeah. Good luck with that. Archie should have the security tapes down in AV by now. I'm gonna go check them out."

Grissom nodded. "If you find anything..."

"You'll be my first call."

Warrick walked out of the room and Grissom leaned back in his chair, growing weary of the harshly sad notes floating through the phone. He ran the case through his head.

'_Bill.' Dollars. Sara. Stalker? Sara. He'd called, they never call. Sara. Prints of a dead man. Arson ruled an accident. A mess. Sara. _

He couldn't concentrate, and that bothered him. The music in his head smoothed out and he recognized Bach playing. Sara. His head was starting to pound.

She was so close. She was alive. They knew who had her. They just didn't know where. She was alive. That thought kept bouncing through his mind like a rubber ball. He'd all but given up hope, had he never would have given up all hope. Not until he saw a body.

He'd told Nick earlier not to quit hoping. That it was sometimes the only reason to get out of bed. And he hadn't been lying. Knowing the horrors of the world - sometimes you had to be able to hope for something better. And his hope had always been Sara. When he'd met her, he had seen what good there was. When she'd smiled he'd remembered a thousand reasons to keep living. When she laughed...she became the reason he woke up each day. He'd never let himself admit it before, but it was true.

He got up because he had hope. Hope that it would be the day that he could push past his own selfish insecurities and let himself love her. Let himself be loved by her. Hope that she wouldn't laugh in his face and tell him he was too late. Hope that he'd be able to pull her into his arms and show her the good things in life that she had shown him - just by being near him. And now it was hope that he would get the chance.

He jumped when the phone clicked and a woman's voice floated through. "Dr. Grissom? Sorry for making you wait."

"Skip the empty apologies." He snapped. "I have a missing woman. You've got the record flagged of the man we believe has her. The record of a supposed dead man. Can you explain that to me?"

She sighed. "Dr. Grissom, we handle identity theft very seriously. Even when the victim is deceased."

"Identity theft?"

"The victim - a Mr. Nitlinan Bergsten, deceased. His sister called us in after she received a credit card statement for her brother. Four years after his death. We began an investigation immediately."

"Ma'am...It has come to our attention in the last day, that Mr. Bergsten may not be dead. We believe he started the fire and then escaped alive. We also believe he has kidnapped one of our investigators. I'm going to need everything you have on this man."

"Sir..." She hesitated. "I'm not sure how much help we're actually going to be. We've had a team staking out a house in Las Vegas for the past week... However, we have yet to see anything suspicious. If he were holding a kidnap victim there...I'm sure our people would have noticed it."

Grissom was floored. Not because of the fact that they hadn't seen anything...people are sneaky. But the fact that they had an address. "Where?"

He heard a file being flipped through. "I don't seem to have it here." More rustling of papers.

Grissom was standing now, pacing behind his desk. "How can you misplace THAT? It's where your suspect is!" He was feeling a little irate and the urge to crawl through the phone and smack this woman upside the head was pushing him into the irrational part of his mind.

"Sir, I'm not the lead on the case. The people that need the address have the address. I'll find it for you...get it to you as soon as I can. I apologize for this."

Grissom could feel his pulse racing and his face was flushed with anger. "Time is of the essence. I NEED that address. Now." His voice was surprisingly calm. He rattled off his phone number. "Call me. Immediately." He hung up the phone and left his office in a rush he could feel pouring through his every vein.

* * *

He made it to the AV lab in record time. Warrick looked up with a unreadable expression written across his face. "We have it on tape."

Grissom stepped closer. There playing enlarged on the computer monitor was Sara walking to her car. He watched her hit the lock on her key chain, watched her headlights flash as the doors unlocked. She got into the car. Shut the door. Then she hesitated before starting the engine. He could see her brows furrow with a sense of realization as another form popped up in the backseat. As she turned her head, an arm reached around the seat.

It felt like his stomach hit the floor. As the hand was removed she spoke. Then the realization on her face became knowing. And knowing turned into worry. Then terror.

Grissom's hand was clenching the back of Archie's chair so hard his knuckles hurt. "How'd he get into the car? Locks weren't jimmied. Windows in tact. And I know Sara...there's no way she'd leave her vehicle unlocked. No way."

Archie looked over his shoulder. "That's where it gets a little creepier. Watch." He hit a series of buttons and the image on the screen changed.

Grissom could tell from the shadows on the tape that it had occurred at night - during shift. "What am I watching?"

"He had her keys alright. But he had them before he took her." He pointed to the screen as a man on a bicycle rode up beside Sara's car and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. Selecting one with ease, he opened the trunk and placed his bike inside. Pulling a gun from the waist of his pants, he used the same key and opened the driver's side door. He looked completely innocent as he hit the lock button and opened the back door. He climbed inside and pulled the door closed behind him. His figure disappeared as he lay down.

Archie hit another button and the shadows grew quickly as the tape sped past the rising of the sun, back to the scene of Sara leaving the building. "Stop the tape. I've seen enough." Grissom's voice sounded weak even to himself and nausea quickly joined his growing headache. He turned to leave the room. "See if you can get a clear view of the man's face. I want to compare it to the photo we got from the prints."

Archie nodded. "You got it boss."

* * *

He pulled his phone from his belt and dialed Catherine's number. "Where are you?"

"Henderson - B&E ...Grissom, what's wrong?" Her voice was tinged in the tone he'd begun to hate over the last couple weeks...pity.

"We have the kidnapping on tape. He just...took her." His voice shook and he stopped walking. "In just seconds he had complete control."

"Gil..." There was that pity again.

"Catherine would you please stop using that tone with me?" He closed his eyes. "I'm not going to break." One foot in front of the other. He had to get to his office.

This time the pity was gone, replaced by concern. "You sure?"

A slow pain-filled chuckle escaped his lips. "No. I'm not. I feel like I am breaking - like I'm losing whatever Sara possessed that held me together." He didn't register what he'd just admitted to, and Catherine didn't sound shocked, nor did she try to figure out what he'd said.

"I know. She's going to be ok. Ok? She's a fighter, she's stronger then you or I. This guy picked the wrong girl to be his submissive. If anyone..." The words trailed off. "...It'll be her."

Grissom sighed. "I want to believe you Cath. But... it's...hard." He hated the sob he could feel building in his chest. "Watching the terror on her face..." He stopped himself. "Her fear - hurts _me, _Catherine. More then I thought possible.

The other end of the line was silent for a long time before she spoke again. "That's what happens Gil...when you love someone."

He reached his office and closed the door behind him, thumbing the lock. He sat heavily in his chair, not sure of how to respond. "I didn't want to love her."

"But you do." It wasn't a question.

"And I..." He fought back that same sob, now lodged in his throat. "I want to be able to tell her that."

Catherine could feel the pain in his voice as it traveled over the phone lines and into her own heart, along with the tears she knew he didn't want her to hear.

She tried to speak again but he cleared his throat and interrupted her. "I'm sorry Catherine...I didn't mean to take you away from your work. I...I have to go."

"But Gil..." He was pulling his shell down again.

"Thank you Catherine. Really. But I...I can't do this now ok? I shouldn't have called. I was - upset. But I'm better now." He lied as one tear slipped down his cheek.

He heard her take a breath. He knew she didn't believe him. She knew him better then that. "You know how to get ahold of me Grissom. If you want to...talk."

He closed the phone and put his elbows on his desk, followed shortly by his head in his hands. Only then did the sob escape. Quietly and without as much force as he'd expected. In his mind, he saw Sara's eyes as that man clapped his hand over her mouth. Saw her terror growing as they spoke. Felt the terror in that moment force itself into his own heart.

In the two weeks she'd been missing, he had never allowed himself to imagine her fear. He hadn't wanted to know. But now he did. And now he hurt. Everything hurt, his head pounding out an unnatural rhythm. His stomach threatening to lose what little he'd eaten in the last twelve hours. His back and neck screaming at him for falling asleep in his chair every day for the last two weeks.

He couldn't sleep in his bed, when he slept in his bed he dreamt. And his dreams were nightmares. So he slept in a chair in his living room, upright and uncomfortable, so he never was asleep long enough to dream.

His sobs had stopped but his tears were still flowing when the phone beside his elbow chirped, drawing him out of his cocoon of depression.

"Grissom." His voice sounded husky.

"Dr. Grissom. This is Mandy Kilmoore from the FBI. One of your CSI's faxed me a photo of the man you think took...Sara Sidle."

Grissom perked up considerably. "And?"

"The picture we received from you is of the same man we had under surveillance."

"Had?" Grissom's heart fluttered in his chest.

"We had someone watching 24 hours a dayfor an entire week. Nothing. We sent a man to the door with a hidden camera to get a good look at our guy just this morning. Got nothing remotely suspicious. But about an hour ago I got an order from my superiors to pull surveillance."

Grissom groaned. "Why?"

"We needed the manpower for another case."

"The address? Can I have it?"

"Yeah. But in light of what you've told us... I thought you should know - the credit card? The statement consisted largely of online purchases."

Grissom left the obvious question hanging in the air, afraid to ask. Afraid to know.

"Chains. Police quality restraints. Handcuffs." She paused. "Things you use for holding prisoners."

Grissom bit his bottom lip to keep from swearing out loud. "The address. Please."

She rattled off an address in a poverty-riddled area of Las Vegas. Grissom wrote it down and was out his door before he even realized he'd hung up on the woman. He was dialing Brass as he stuck his head in the break room. "Nick. Warrick. We have to go. Now." He took off again out the door.

He brought the phone to his ear in time to hear Brass answer. "Jim, I got an address from the FBI." He repeated it without looking at the paper he was clutching in his hand. "I'll meet you there."

"Wait - Gil. The FBI?"

"I'll explain later. I've gotta go Jim, just meet me there - bring back-up." He slammed the phone shut with more force then was necessary. Nick and Warrick ran up behind him as he reached the Denali. They climbed in without asking what was going on.

As Grissom pulled harshly from the parking spot, Nick threw a concerned look at Warrick before turning in the front seat and looking at his boss. "Is she...?"

"No. I don't know. God, I hope not."

Nick frowned. "Then where - ?"

"The feds came through - gave us an address. I just hope we get there in time."

* * *

**Ok - so apparently I have to offer bribes to get reviews. Uh, well. Cookies - hot chocolate - lemonade - coffee! Whatever you want, it's your's! Cake. Pie! Yes. Just review!**


	9. Chapter 8

Title: Stalked - Chapter 8

Disclaimer: They're not mine any more then they are yours. I just wanted to play with them, and plan on having them back before the summer hiatus is up - maybe a little dirty, but in good shape non the less.

Author's Note: I did my part in getting another chapter up. You know what that means! Time to review. :o) Oh and thanks again to **Sol**, for putting up with my fragmented sentences and my overuse of the words 'just, that, and the'. Not to mention my tendancy to make up words. :o) and the '...' that I seem so fond of. lol. Thanks a million. Please enjoy this chapter!

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Nity walked up the sidewalk to his door. It had been a long day, but it was going to be an even longer night. He unlocked the deadbolts and stepped inside. Shutting the door softly behind him, he reached out and flipped on the overhead lights. Pushing his brows together to form a scowl, he walked into the kitchen and stopped, resting his hands on the countertop. 

He'd decided earlier that afternoon to give Sara one chance to survive. He shook his head. It wasn't really her chance; she had nothing to do with it. He was giving the chance to Grissom. Sara loved him, trusted him. Would she trust him to save her?

All those years ago when Natasha was still his, he'd trusted her. He assumed they were in love, a real love, the kind with no secrets and no lies. Turns out, she was lying and keeping the biggest secret of all. When he'd come home that morning and found her in bed with his friend, he'd snapped, but still he'd given her a chance to say she was sorry. To explain, to do something.

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_FLASHBACK_

It'd been a long day, Nity had worked one and a half shifts at the diner, and Sara Sidle hadn't been in even once. He laughed at his own childish thought as he unlocked the door to his father's house. It wasn't like she was in a relationship with him. Hell, he'd be shocked senseless if she even remembered his face. But she had somehow become the object of his fantasies.

But for tonight, it was ok with him that he hadn't seen her. Instead of the sixteen-hour day he'd expected to work, he had pulled only twelve, getting out four hours early. If she came in ten minutes after he left? Eh, he could be ok with that, after all; he had his own little piece at home.

When he'd met Natasha, she had reminded him so much of Sara. The way she walked, the lightness of her accent, she even sort of looked like her. The only difference was that Tasha had asked him out. And he'd accepted. If he couldn't have Sara, what could be better then her doppelganger?

They'd been dating for a while now, and he really liked her. Not just for what she had in common with Sara, but also for what she didn't. He'd been thinking a lot lately about marriage – even if it would mean having to give up his obsession with Miss Sidle. But then, why would he need to keep it, if he had the next best thing waiting for him at home every night?

He was whistling a tune he didn't know he knew as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom. He couldn't wait to get out of this uniform and crawl into bed with Tasha. She'd been spending the night at his place a lot lately, and neither one of them really wanted to put that on hold while his house was fumigated, so she spent the night here; in his father's house, with him.

She said she had to work late tonight, but so did he, so he gave her a key and told her to wait for him, that he couldn't wait to see her. He was hoping to surprise her by getting home so early.

Turns out, she surprised him.

He didn't hear the sounds until it was too late to miss them. His hand had already gripped the knob and turned, his arm already pushing the door open as he heard his girlfriend gasp his best friend's name. At that, he stopped dead in his tracks, the strip of light from the hallway illuminating the bed just enough to make out Brian's frame as he hovered over Nity's girlfriend. Nity's eyes moved from that sight to the clothes over the floor and the candles lit on the nightstand.

At first he couldn't speak. Not until Natasha looked at him and laughed. Damn. The girl actually thought this was funny. "What the hell!" It was actually the only coherent thing he could say. But unfortunately for Natasha, it just added to her laughter.

Two quick strides in the room, and he had his hands around Brian's neck; squeezing with all the strength he could find. Tears slipped fast down his cheeks and he knew he was growling; muttering under his breath, but even he wasn't sure of what he was saying.

When Brian' eyes fluttered closed and he went limp in Nity's hands, he was thrown to the side like a rag doll. Nity had never considered himself to be strong, but apparently anger empowered him.

"What the hell did you _do_ Nity?" Natasha's voice was shrill in his ears and Nity could feel the anger bubbling up again.

"You stupid little bitch. Why did you have to ruin such a good thing? I…" He stuttered. "I loved you!"

Fear shone crystal clear in her dark brown eyes. "Nity…" Then she found her strength, part of the reason he loved her. "What the hell are you doing here anyway? You're supposed to be working for the next few hours! You're not even supposed to be here!"

That just angered him more. "Oh, but I am." One fluid movement and he was covering her hips with his own, holding her to the mattress. "And that's all that matters." His fingers slid around her neck and he laughed the laugh of a crazy man, but that was ok – in this moment, he felt crazy. "Say you're sorry."

"What? No, Nity listen…stop." At the word 'no' his fingers had tightened.

"I loved you so much Natasha. But you know what?"

Her eyes blinked rapidly and her lips moved though no sound came out. It was hard to make a noise when you couldn't get air to pass over your vocal cords.

"It doesn't matter if I loved you. Because I know someone better. She's you. You're her. Interchangeable." He sneered. "I don't need a copy like you, when I can have the real thing."

In one final attempt to get away, she lashed out with one hand, succeeding in only knocking the burning candle from its place on the nightstand. One minute later, and the once small flame had engulfed her skirt on the floor next to the bed. Thirty more seconds and he could feel the heat as it traveled up the comforter. He met her eyes one last time as they rolled up into her head and she passed out.

Instead of putting out the ever-growing flame, he ran. He'd grabbed his keys and was out the door before he knew what he was doing. He was halfway down the street before he realized he was driving.

_END FLASHBACK

* * *

_

He was still standing in the kitchen gripping the cracked countertop. After that night, he'd left Vegas for a while. He'd read the papers, watched the news, and knew they assumed he was Brian – assumed he was dead. The fire was an accident, the papers said. Started by a candle. Three deaths ruled accidents. His obituary in the paper, Brian buried in his place. That was ok anyway. Brian didn't have any family, and as far as Nity knew, he was the only person that would miss him.

Eventually he returned to Las Vegas, he couldn't help himself for wanting to return to his home. To return to her. A total change in wardrobe, a darker shade of hair, a beard and moustache, contact lenses, and the 35 lbs he'd lost off his frame in the time he'd been gone; not a single person recognized him.

He'd had to work odd jobs. He was always paid cash, and was never asked for ID. This is Vegas. Jobs that kept you off the government's radar were surprisingly easy to come by. He'd started renting this house – again cash on the first of every month, and his 'landlord' never asked questions.

When he realized the things he was going to need for holding Sara, he'd panicked. Even in the shadiest of neighborhoods, people looked at you funny for ordering steel poles and chains. So he'd gone online, and had been dismayed to find every site stating "Credit Cards Only." Two weeks later he'd found a not-so-big bank that had given him a card without running a background check. They must not have, or they would know he was supposed to be dead.

He laughed every time he thought about how easy it was to exist while he was dead. There was always someone willing to look the other way, always someone wanting to help him, just because he knew how to play the part. It was an amazing feeling knowing how much power he really had.

But that was the past, this was the present. And something told him that it wasn't going to be so easy this time. When that DMV guy had come knocking on his door, and then asked for him; the old him, the one he hadn't been in years, Nity had freaked out just a little. He was still fighting the desire to just abandon ship. But he knew that within twenty-four hours, he'd be long gone anyways. Without Sara...there was nothing holding him to Las Vegas any longer. And he figured that he should at least give this Dr. Grissom a chance to know how much she loved him. Even if he didn't love her back, and even if he couldn't save her.

* * *

Sara sat in the rocking chair thinking to herself, mainly about the nail in her pocket, and about the phone in his. The nail was too small to be used as an adequate weapon; even if she somehow managed to get him in the neck it still wouldn't do much damage. Besides, she twirled it between her fingers, it was old and the end was almost dulled down to nothing. 

She fought the urge to throw it across the room, it could still be helpful; could still be worth something. She really didn't know what, but she wasn't going to lose her temper and give it up unless she was sure.

She stood up too quickly as she heard the locks open at the top of the stairs, and her ribs protested loudly. She slipped the nail back into her pocket as Nity thundered down the stairs. He looked - excited. That worried her, and she cocked her head at him.

"Ah Sara, won't you play a game with me?" He grinned. As he met her eyes she saw something else there. Pity? No, that wasn't quite it.

"What kind of game?" She had her guard up already.

"The kind that involves a damsel in distress and your knight in shining armor, of course."

"And what's involved in this 'game' of yours?"

The smile left his face. "You either die or you go home."

Sara swallowed fast. What was going on? "Well, I'd like to go home...you know, as opposed to dying." She was surprised at the lack of fear in her voice.

"Well, that decision has nothing to do with me. I'm afraid I won't be playing your hero this time." He hung his head. "I'll be playing the part of the villain."

Sara sat down in the chair. "And what if I don't want to play?"

"Sweet Sara. I'm thinking that my time in Vegas is coming to an end. And as much as I would love to take you with me, I just don't see how that will work. So instead, we're going to play a game with Dr. Grissom."

At Grissom's name Sara snapped eyes off the floor and glared at Nity. "You're not going to hurt him."

He laughed. "Not physically. But what do you think it's going to do to him when he gets here - and you're gone?"

"He's coming?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"Well, if not him, then someone's coming. It didn't register at first, this morning when someone came to my door - but they messed up. They asked for the me who used to be, not the me I am now. And when they get here, I'll make sure Grissom gets the message. In fact," He looked down at his wrist though there was no watch. "We should probably be going. I was quite relieved they hadn't gotten here before I got back." He stepped forward and pulled the gun from his waistband, and a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.

Smiling, he first locked one cuff to himself and the other to her, before bending and unlocking the one around her ankle. "I'm sorry for this." He met her eyes and she really did see sorrow there. She was going to speak when she felt the blade of a knife pierce the tender flesh of her thigh.

"Dammit!" She swore out loud. "What the hell was that for?"

He pointed to the blood falling to the floor. "It's your DNA - and it'll get your friends all riled up." He smiled again at the thought. "And one more thing." He dropped a piece of paper on top of the bed. "Now, lets go."

Sara glanced down at the paper as it fluttered to the bed. Grissom's name was scrawled across the top and her heart dropped. She didn't want to get him involved, and leaving his name at the scene - her scene - was a sure way to make him play along with whatever little game Nity had up his sleeve. "Why are you doing this?"

He started to the stairs and she had no choice but to follow. "Because I don't want to be the one who lets you down dear Sara. When he fails to save you, it'll be him who dreams of you. It'll be him who wakes in a cold sweat - because he didn't love you enough to save you. I'll give him a chance to get you out alive. It won't be my fault when he fails."

She didn't remind him who had brought her here, didn't tell him that it would still be his fault; that if she died Grissom wouldn't just dream about her. He would spend the rest of his life hunting the man who killed her.

As they reached the top of the stairs, Sara pulled herself to a stop, causing Nity to wince when the cuff cut into his wrist. "What Sara? Didn't I tell you we were in a hurry?"

She hung her head. "I have to use the bathroom." She glanced up at him. He was looking at her thoughtfully. "It'll just take a minute."

He sighed. "Fine." Leading her to the bathroom door he unlocked the cuff around her wrist.

She walked into the room and shut the door securely behind her. Looking around in a panic, she grabbed the bottle of soap off the edge of the bathtub. Watching the door closely she dabbed a small amount on her index finger. Leaning over the sink, she wrote:

_It's a game._

_A Trap._

_Don't Play._

_He won't hurt me._

As the smears dried, it was hardly visible. Good. Her team would find it. She knew they would. She flushed the toilet and turned on the water to rinse her hands clean before stepping to the door and pulling it open. Nity looked at her with surprise. "You've still got time."

"I told you it would only take a minute." She walked calmly out of the bathroom, hoping he wouldn't notice the mirror.

He didn't even look inside, just snapped the cuff back onto her wrist and led her from the room. Sara swallowed tears of relief.

He stopped in the kitchen and he grabbed a bag of something off the counter. Chuckling softly to himself, he led her from the house. He intertwined their fingers together and held her hand so it wouldn't look suspicious if any of his nosier neighbors happened to be watching out their windows.

Sara hadn't been outside of the house in so long, and the soft breeze that ruffled her hair felt like heaven, giving her courage and strength. She was surprised at how calm she felt as he led her to the car and quite possibly to the place where she would die. She sighed softly to herself as he led her into the garage, sending a quiet plea to whoever would listen that Grissom wouldn't get involved.

Opening the back passenger door he quickly undid the cuff around his own wrist and locked it around the plastic bar above the door. She slid into the car and leaned back against the seat. There wasn't anything she could do in this position. She was stuck again, too far away to reach him as he got behind the wheel and, she discovered as she pulled on the door handle with her free hand, the child safety was engaged on the door. She couldn't have opened it if she wanted to.

He started the car, and for the first time since she arrived, Sara took in the neighborhood around her. The other houses looked as rundown as the one she had just left. Her imagination pictured dirty children with skinned knees and drunken parents sending them outside to play so they wouldn't be witnesses to their drug dealings. That was what this area of Las Vegas said to her. Poverty and Drugs. Cars parked on the curbs, rusty and old. Lawns that had long ago been forgotten about.

It was in areas like this that nobody ever saw anything. Nothing was anyone's business and people knew better then to call the cops. Sara rubbed her hand over her face and closed her eyes. Opening them again some time later, she glanced at the rearview mirror and caught Nity watching her. "Where are we going?"

He smiled a slow smile. "I suppose I could give you the game plan now huh?"

Sara frowned. "I guess."

Moving his eyes back to the road Nity continued. "What's going to happen my dear, is that I'm going to put you in a position of life or death. I don't want to hurt you, so don't you worry about that. It'll be completely painless - or at least quick. It's all set up now, waiting for us to get there. While you were in the bathroom, I set the first part of the game: a wire above the basement door. When they trip it, it'll start a timer. When the timer runs out, you die. It really is that simple." He sighed.

Sara swallowed. "How long?"

"What do you mean?"

"After the timer is triggered? How long until I die?" She heard the fear in her voice now, and it almost relieved her that she could still feel.

"Two hours. Plenty of time." He looked back at her. "And long enough for me to get out of here."

The inside of the car fell silent, and for a long while all Sara heard was the wheels rushing over the road. "How?" She finally asked the question that had been tugging at her mind.

"I thought and thought about that Sara. To be honest, it almost drove me crazy today, trying to figure out how to end your life." She felt the car slow. "Finally I decided that I could just use a bomb. Nice and simple. But like I said, don't worry about it - you'll be gone before you realize it hurts."

Nity turned the car off the road and Sara saw an old building standing in the distance. "Where are we?"

"My grandfather's cabin. Until this morning I hadn't been here in years." As he pulled up to the building Sara shuddered.

He shut off the engine and stepped from the car. Sara tried to pull away as he opened the door and reached for her arm. He just sighed and wrapped his hand around upper arm. "Let's not fight ok? This is hard enough as it is."

She held still as he unlocked the cuff. In the instant before he could lock it around his own wrist, she threw her body against his, falling from the car to land hard on top of him. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of his lungs, but she didn't falter as she got to her feet and took off down the driveway they'd just driven up.

Her lungs were already complaining, the bruises along her ribs screamed with every step she took, and the throbbing in her thigh growing worse every time that leg hit the ground. She didn't dare look behind her, she could hear him cursing as she ran. Ducking her head and holding her arms tight to her side, she ran like she never had before. But still she knew it wasn't fast enough, her injuries were slowing her down. She could hear him gaining on her - she could feel herself slowing.

She yelped as his hand touched her shoulder. Swinging her arm around she caught him in the face with the open end of the handcuff and felt a surge of strength when he cried out and his hand fell from her shoulder. Still running, never stopping. She couldn't stop. To stop would be to give in. She wasn't giving in again. She had too much to do yet, too much to say. Someone she needed to love.

Her legs were growing weary quickly and her breath was hitching in her throat. Already her tongue was so dry it was sticking to the roof of her mouth. Tears sprung to her eyes as she stepped sideways on a rock and her ankle twisted in an unnatural direction, dramatically slowing her pace. She screamed out loud when he caught her again and knocked her to the ground.

Fighting with a strength it was hard to believe she still possessed, she pushed him off of her and tried in vain to crawl away. He grabbed her around the ankles and pulled her to him over the dry dirt of the Nevada desert. Her bruises burned as new scratches were formed over the top and she could feel smaller cuts covering her hands and arms as she grabbed at the dry soil, trying desperately to stop herself.

She felt his weight over her as he pinned her to the ground and yanked her arm behind her back, successfully getting the cuff locked around his wrist. "Now. Sara." He was out of breath. "Stop already." She was still writhing underneath him, trying to pull away. He grabbed her hair with his free hand and pulled her to her feet along with him. "Sara! I don't want to hurt you! Jeez girl, STOP!" He pulled her towards the cabin.

"No! Nity NO!" She was begging while still trying to pull him in the opposite direction. But again, he was bigger than her, stronger than her, and no matter how hard she pulled away, she found herself getting closer and closer to the front door.

As they reached the door Nity laughed out loud. "Well, that was fun." He pulled her inside and Sara yanked against him at the sight of the bomb sitting on the table. "Now Sara. I don't know why you're so worried. You trust him right? All he has to do is his job. If he finds you, you'll be fine."

Sara remained silent and struggled against him every step he took into the room. Inside she saw it was a one roomed building, a cracked ceiling being held up by four crumbling walls and a large wooden beam in the middle. He dragged her to the center of the room and tied her to the beam before unlocking the cuff around his own wrist, and locking her hands behind her back around the pole.

Rubbing at the swelling bruise that circled his wrist, he frowned at her. "Well. I think you managed to sprain my wrist. Way to go." He turned around and busied himself with the things on the table.

Sara hung her head and slumped against the rough wood. This was the last place she ever thought this would wind up: halfway into the desert in some long forgotten bachelor getaway. She sighed softly and Nity turned around. "Decide to play?"

"Don't have much choice do I?"

He smirked. "No. Not really. Are you ready?"

"For what?"

He held up what could only be described as an amateur's bomb. "To go boom." Walking over to her, he wrapped it around both her and the wood she was leaning on. "I wouldn't struggle too much. If it falls - well, your Grissom might run out of time sooner then I said."

She instantly stilled, knowing he was right.

Smiling, he touched her cheek. "Be a good girl - I'll be right back." He turned and disappeared out the door.

Fighting to remain calm Sara took a few deep breaths. Suddenly this situation was almost funny to her - like something out of a roadrunner cartoon. She was supposed to believe he set this all up in one day? Right. It took money - brains. She knew the bomb was probably real, but the whole tripping wire and the timer? Probably not.

As Nity came back in she swallowed the giggles that were threatening to escape, but was too slow, and he caught one as she tried to cough to cover it up. "What's so funny?"

She rolled her eyes. "Where's the remote? The transmitter? You want me to believe I can survive this... but I won't will I? Grissom has nothing to do with this. There's no way he can trip a wire miles away and trigger the bomb around me."

Nity chuckled. "Ah Sara. You couldn't be more wrong." He grinned. "What do you think I've been doing all day? I've been making sure this works. It is amazing what you can get with a little blackmail, and friends in low places." He pulled a digital clock from the bag and set it on the table across from her.

He stood between her and the clock for a good ten minutes, fiddling with it, during which time the silence was almost stifling. When he finally turned back, the clock was blinking 2:00. "When it hits zero..." His voice was hushed. "Boom."

He started gathering his things back into the bag. "Now, I have a flight to catch." He walked over to Sara and kissed her cheek. "Good luck."

Sara watched with a mixture of terror and surprise as he walked out the door. She had thought he was lying. But the clock was still blinking 2:00.

She couldn't blink; her breaths were coming quick and shallow. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for the moment her death sentence was ruled.

The sounds of crickets chirping outside and the wind howling across the windows did nothing for the already spooky atmosphere around her. Fear was radiating off of her in waves so thick she was sure she was going to drown in it.

Every creak of the old building had her nerves bundled so tight she kept forgetting to breathe. Nothing seemed real. It couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening - not to her. It had to be someone else - this was a scene she thought she'd only see the aftermath of. Just another scene for her to process. A clock with prime surfaces for holding prints. A handcuff with fresh epithelials clinging to its surface. Her mind wandered to her friends searching this room - the last room she might ever be in. She should have taken another few seconds in the bathroom to write goodbye. She drew in a shuddered breath as the clock's numbers dimmed with a strong gust of wind but came on still reading 2:00.

She wasn't sure how long she had been standing there, staring at that clock. But she had never jumped so hard in her life as she did when the numbers flipped and came back on reading 1:59, no warning no sound. A tear slipped down her cheek and she knew...she just knew she was going to die that night.

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**So I'm not going to beg this time. I just want to say how very much I appreciate all of you who have taken the time to review - It means a lot to me to know you like it. So thanks.**


	10. Chapter 9

Title: Stalked - Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I'm to tired to think of anything witty. Bite me. They're not mine.

Author's Note: Thanks to **Sol** for the Beta! I really appreciate her sticking with me all this way. It can't be easy putting up with all my stupidness. :o) So Thanks Sol. And I'm dedicating this chapter to my little sister Kimmy, because without her sitting here yelling at me to get it done, it would have taken me another week. Please review, I love reviews. I really really do. Convinced? Good. Then leave one!

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The interior of the Denali was so quiet Grissom was sure he could hear the quick panicked beating of three hearts, his own beating the fastest and hardest. She was so close - miles... minutes. He couldn't get this machine to move as fast as he needed it to, every moment seemed to last forever. He could be too late, this traffic - this stupid, stupid traffic could be the difference between life and death.

He beat his fist against the horn, more out of anger and frustration then an attempt to get the cars in front of him to move any faster. He could feel Nick watching him - could feel the worry pouring off of the younger man. He could almost predict the words as they were released from his mouth.

"Grissom? She's going to be ok."

Yeah. Right. She's ok, everything's ok. He was ok. He physically shook his head trying to clear out the adrenaline that seemed to have taken control of him. "We need to be there. I need to be there."

Nick didn't respond, but out of the corner of his eye, Grissom saw him shoot Warrick yet another worried look. The next second, Warrick had his hand on his shoulder. Shrugging it off, Grissom kept his eyes on the road. He didn't want them to lend him strength; he didn't want their support. Those were the kinds of things you gave someone who had lost something. He hadn't lost her yet. And if he was honest with himself, he never really had her to lose.

Finally the cars in front of him separated, giving him free reign to gun the engine and fly down the street. He didn't bother checking to see how fast he was going - it didn't matter. The faster the better. His own safety wasn't what he was concerned about. Sara.

"Boss, you need to slow down. We can't help her if we're dead." Warrick spoke softly from the backseat.

At the truth in his words, Grissom eased his foot off the accelerator. Taking a deep breath he gripped the wheel harder. "Ok guys, here's the thing. I'm not even sure she's going to be there. The evidence is saying he has her - and the feds say this address is where he is. But I don't know." He hated the defeat in his voice. "The FBI has been watching this address for a week - they haven't seen Sara." Just saying her name out loud made him inwardly flinch, though he didn't know why.

"That doesn't mean she wasn't inside the house. She'll be there Grissom." Nick tried to sound sure, but the crack in his voice gave him away.

They all fell silent again - they knew what one another was thinking, but it didn't seem like a good idea to put that fear into words. They were fighting the demon of doubt, and the demon was winning.

Grissom took a sharp turn and seconds later screeched to a stop outside of a two story house that appeared to have not been lived in for years.

He barely saw the dust colored sedan as it turned the corner two blocks up. And he sure didn't realize Sara was handcuffed in the backseat.

He opened his car door and walked up the front walk. He heard Nick and Warrick slamming their doors behind him. "Grissom! We need to wait for the PD to clear the scene." Warrick called.

"I'm just looking." He climbed the steps and peered in the window by the door. A lamp lay broken on the floor next to a sturdy looking pole. His stomach flipped. This was the place. Moving away from the window he went back down the steps and followed Nick around back. The basement windows were dark - like someone had drawn the shades. As he moved closer he noticed that it wasn't a shade, it was paint. Another step and he saw that the paint was flaking off in one area - no, it wasn't flaking. He kneeled in front of the window.

It had been scratched off.

Nick was standing over his shoulder in silence as he leaned forward to get a better look. A bed, a chair, a pole, a chain, and was that...? It was blood. He stood up. "We need to get in there."

"What's wrong? Is she there?"

"No. I don't see her." But what he had seen was horror enough, though he didn't say that out loud.

"Guys! The PD's here! Come on!" Warrick's voice floated through the air from the front of the house. It was then that Grissom finally noticed the sirens filling the air. He hadn't moved this fast in years - he raced around the side of the building just behind Nick.

The three of them stood back with weapons drawn as the police broke the door down and stepped inside. The urge to follow them in was strong and Nick actually took a step forward before Grissom put a hand up to stop him. "They do their job. Then we do ours."

Nick shuffled his feet impatiently. This from the man who had looked like he wanted to break in through the basement window. He knew Grissom was right though - they had to wait until it was safe.

When Brass came back out five minutes later and gave them the all clear, it would have taken an army of supersoldiers to stop them from getting in. But Brass managed it with three little words. "She was here."

They all stopped in their tracks and frowned at him. Warrick spoke up first. "_Was_ here?"

"Yeah. She's gone. Again." Brass waved towards the door. "Now go. Do what you do, and tell me where to go get her."

They didn't need to be told twice, and kits in hand they entered the dark house. Three flashlights clicked on simultaneously. The light shined through a filter of dust as they took in their surroundings. Grissom set his kit down and reached for his phone. It was time to call in the back-up.

"Willows."

"Catherine - We know where he was holding Sara. She's not here anymore - we need to get this scene processed ASAP. Call Greg and get over here." He gave her the address. "Hurry."

"Grissom, how'd you..."

He cut her off. "I'll tell you later Catherine, I have to get to work - and I need your help."

He could almost feel her nod through the phone lines and hung up. Turning to Nick and Warrick, he smiled weakly. "Come on. Lets get to work."

He walked away from them and started for the kitchen. Dust covered the counters, cobwebs decorated the corners. The whole place had the feeling of a haunted house. He shivered despite his knowledge that there are no such things as ghosts. This house held more than trapped spirits though - it held memories, memories of Sara's terror.

Lifting fingerprints and hairs from the surfaces distracted him from what he really wanted to do, which was race down to that basement and see - he just needed to know. But the scientist in him took over - he knew there was a way this scene needed to be processed. He knew there was valuable evidence he needed to collect.

He'd been moving slowly over the room for a while when he heard Nick's voice coming from the bathroom. He stood and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the permanent kink that had taken up residence there.

When he reached the bathroom, he stopped at the sight of Nick dusting the mirror. "What've you got?"

Nick took a step back and pointed to the mirror. "A message. From Sara I'm thinking."

Grissom read the words out loud and his blood froze. "It's a game. A trap. Don't play. He won't hurt me... What does she mean? What's a game?"

"Maybe there's something you haven't found yet." Catherine's voice jarred him from his thoughts.

"The basement." His mind felt muddled. "There was blood in the basement."

"Oh God." Greg came up behind Catherine. He looked pale and he had his hand over his mouth in the universal sign of someone about to be sick.

Grissom sent him a concerned look. "Not a lot Greg. Are you going to be ok?"

The younger man's eyes closed. He decided he must look as sick as he felt for his boss to actually show concern for him. "I'm going to be fine. Have you cleared the basement yet?"

"No. We were working our way down there. But I think we should go do that now." He turned from bathroom. "Greg, you come with me. Catherine - go help Warrick, he's upstairs. Nick, see if you can isolate a print in that message - make sure it was Sara who wrote it."

Catherine turned back towards the stairs and got back to work. Grissom walked past Greg and briefly touched his shoulder. "Come on. I'm going to need your help."

Greg nodded to nobody before turning to follow him. "We do this together."

Grissom noted the locks on the basement door and the lump in his stomach froze into an icy ball. This was where he had her. He reached out a gloved hand and touched the cold metal of the doorknob. Closing his eyes, he turned it and pulled the door open to reveal a set of steep wooden stairs.

He hadn't noticed the wire above the door, or the soft click when the bomb was triggered.

He started down the stairs, shining his flashlight ahead of him. He heard Greg's footfalls start down the stairs behind him and turned to face him. "Are you sure you're ready Greg? I can get Catherine to..."

"No. I'm ok. It's not me we should be worrying about."

Grissom nodded and continued down the stairs, silently bracing himself for what was down there. As he came to the bottom two steps, the light from his flashlight caught the scene. His mind reeled with fear as it flashed to the horrors that could have taken place here.

Greg aimed his flashlight in the same direction and Grissom heard his breath catch for a second before he spoke. "Sara..."

"Greg..." His mind filled with a hundred different words to say, a million ways to say she was ok. But they all felt false, and he was done lying to himself and to his team. He reached out with one hand, searching for a light switch. When he found it and flipped it on, pale yellow light illuminated the room. "I think - I think we need to hurry."

His eyes scanned the room as he took in the sight in front of him. A ragged mattress sat in the middle of the floor, a wicker rocker placed beside it, a pole set up at both ends of the makeshift bed. He swallowed hard as his eyes flickered over the pool of blood on the floor. It was fresh, still wet.

He walked into the room, noting the small drops of blood leading toward the stairs. "Greg, watch your step. There's a blood trail."

"I'll follow it." Greg turned and aimed his flashlight at the floor, slowly climbing back up the stairs, leaving Grissom alone in Sara's dungeon.

Grissom flicked his eyes back over the bed as he crouched down to get a swab of the blood. A sheet of notebook paper caught his attention and he frowned as he capped the swab. He snapped a picture of the paper as it lay, before picking it up.

It felt like his heart came to a screeching halt when he read his name across the top. This was the game. "Sorry Sara, honey, I have to play." He spoke softly to no one.

Unfolding the paper he read the sloppily scrawled note.

_Dr. Grissom:_

_Do you know how lucky you are? Do you even notice her when she works beside you? I noticed her. I would have given her anything, I would have been her everything. But the girl doesn't want me. You know why? Because I'm not you. I'm not the one she's in love with. You are. _

_But why am I wasting time telling you something you care nothing about? Because - it's this love she thinks she feels that's keeping her alive right now. And it will do so for the next two hours. You and your team are running out of time Dr. Grissom. I'm long gone by now, but Sara - she is waiting on you. She knows you're here right now - I made sure she would know. And she knows how much time she has left. Can you imagine her fear? I can, I've seen it. Does it make your heart pound? Good. Does it make you wish you had been able to love her back? That you had been able to keep her safe? It's a little too late for regrets now. _

_It would be a lie for me to tell you she's safe, because she's not. Her life is out of my hands Dr. Grissom. It's in yours. Please - go get her. Take her home, and love her like she deserves to be loved. I don't want her to die any more than you do. I love her. She has been my world for years, and it's killing me to write this letter, knowing what I am about to do. _

_Two hours from the time you opened that basement door. Two hours and her life is gone in a single explosion. I hope you didn't waste too much time picking up evidence... _

_Tick Tock - You better run._

Grissom's hands were shaking as he refolded the letter along the crease. He estimated he'd been in the basement for 10 minutes. Time wasted watching his step. His blood was pounding in his temples. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare. He started up the stairs in search of help.

The first person he saw was Nick, still standing in the bathroom, shaking his head at something under the sink. "Nicky."

When Nick turned around he was startled by Grissom's appearance. Grissom's face was pale and his hands were holding a sheet of paper that was trembling softly. "Boss? What's wrong?"

"He's moved her to a different location. He...a bomb. We have two hours to find her." He glanced down at his watch. "Or, one hour and forty-five minutes." He turned away. "Where's Catherine?"

"She uh, she and Warrick went outside - Greg followed the blood trail out the door. She's trying to get tire impressions. A bomb? How'd you..." Grissom walked quickly toward the front door, and Nick followed him outside.

As they stepped from the front door, they caught sight of Catherine walking back into the garage. "Catherine!" Grissom bellowed. He took off toward her. "Cath!" He ran into the garage behind her.

"Grissom... Greg lost the trail in the yard, but I picked it up again in the garage. If it's her blood, I'm thinking he moved her. I got tracks from the road. I sent Warrick back to the lab to get started analyzing them."

Without a word, Grissom handed her the note. As she read it, her eyes grew wide. "Grissom..."

"We have to find her. I'm going to take the blood and prints - and whatever other evidence we've collected, back to the lab. Maybe something will lead us to her." He didn't know what else to do.

Catherine just nodded. "Make sure you get someone to check out his purchases on his credit card. If he's running - maybe he's flying. Brass's already got his name and picture going out to all airports - he's on the no fly list. But... people can be bribed. And check for other properties he may have owned before his...'death'." She handed the sheet of paper back to him and turned away. She couldn't bear the fear in his eyes.

She watched as he ambled away toward to Denali, looking like a man that had been knocked out after only two rounds in the ring and her heart ached for him. She was scared, she was worried, she was in a state of shock - but she knew that her emotions didn't even come close to being as strong or as painful as his.

* * *

Grissom walked into the lab and found Warrick standing beside the computer swearing at the screen. He didn't say anything as he walked up and stood beside him. When Warrick finally looked over at him, Grissom gave him a weary smile. "Anything?"

"Nitilian Bergsten was the owner of a 1994 Mazda 626 - tan in color. Matches the tire impression Cath found. I think he's still driving it."

Grissom frowned before his eyes grew wide with anger. "God... I think he was pulling away as we were pulling in."

"What?"

"Three or so blocks ahead of us as we were pulling up outside the house. A car - light brown. It was turning. Dammit! We let him get away!" He hit the table with his fist.

"There's no way we could have known it was him. Maybe it wasn't."

"No, it was. I know it was. It had to be." He looked down at his watch for the hundredth time. "We're running out of time. I need you to get the traffic tapes. See if you can pick him up, and then follow him as long as you can. Get us a search area." His phone rang then and he turned away from Warrick.

"Grissom."

"Hey Gil, Catherine told me about the note."

Grissom sighed. "Jim... we don't have anything to go on. Not one damn thing."

"I might. This guy - he owned quite a bit of property. He inherited it from his grandfather. A house, some land, a hunting shack, and a cabin."

"There's a good chance he has her there at one of them - Jim, I need you to send a unit to each. Which one is the most isolated?"

"Uh..." Papers rustled in the background. "Looks like the cabin. It's about fifteen miles from the house. Surrounded by desert."

Grissom's heart fluttered. "What's the address?" Brass rattled it off. "Meet me there..."

"- and bring bomb squad. I know. I'll send units to the other places. Just to be sure we cover all of our bases." This time Brass disconnected the call before Grissom could.

Dialing another number he started down the hall. "Greg. I need you at another scene with me. Yes, it's Sara. No, we don't know if she's there. I'll pick you up, be ready."

"Yes sir. Should I get Catherine and Nick?"

"No, we need them to stay there and finish that scene. There might still be evidence there that will take us to her."

"Ok. I'll be waiting."

* * *

Grissom pulled up at the house and Catherine was standing there waiting. "Gil - you're taking the rookie? What are you thinking?" She was leaning in the passenger side window, glaring at him.

"I'm thinking, Catherine, that I need you and Nick here. I need your experience _here. _And I think Greg needs out."

"Grissom, I know everyone's emotions are running a little high right now, but since when do you care when a CSI needs _out _of a scene?" Her tone was sarcastic, but Grissom knew she was just hurt that he hadn't asked her to ride along.

"Since I realized sometimes I have to be your boss and your friend. And that sometimes, the latter is more important. We don't have time to discuss this right now." He waved Greg over and dismissed Catherine with a look. She walked away running her fingers through her hair.

Greg climbed into the car and was still pulling his seatbelt across his shoulder as Grissom pulled away from the curb. "Where are we going?"

"On a little trip to the desert. Nitalian's grandfather had a cabin, it's isolated, it's empty... it's a good place to set off a bomb."

Greg swallowed hard. "How far?"

"Fifteen miles."

"How long to we have?"

"Not long enough." Grissom gritted his teeth and pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor.

* * *

Sara's eyes snapped off the clock as she heard sirens. The tears threatened to fall again as the clock flipped from 0:10 to 0:09. They weren't going to make it. God, she didn't want anyone else to die.

* * *

Grissom's knuckles were white with the pressure he was gripping the wheel with. Greg had been silent throughout the entire drive; save for a few muttered prayers that Grissom couldn't quite hear. They had under ten minutes to get to her, get her free, and get her to safety.

His heart was racing and his head hadn't stopped pounding all day. For the second time that day, Mr. Logical tried to wake up from this nightmare. But it didn't work, he wasn't dreaming.

* * *

A car was coming up the driveway. Sara's eyes flickered to the door before landing again on the clock. 00:08. This time a tear did fall. "Hurry." It came out in a whisper.

Almost in response she heard her own name being yelled as a car screeched to a stop and a door slammed. "Sara!" It was Grissom. Oh God.

* * *

He had his door open before he even had the car in park. "Sara!" He ran towards the door and heard Greg's door slam as he too hurriedly got out of the car. "Sara! Honey, are you here?" He pushed open the door and stopped. "Sara. Oh God." Reacting before he could stop himself he was directly in front of her. "Sara... we're going to get you out of here. She still hadn't spoken and he followed her line of sight to a clock on the table. 00:07. "Timer?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Grissom - get out of here!"

"I can't." He shook his head. "Tell me what you know about this bomb."

"I don't... it's wrapped around me - but I don't think it's set on a trigger if it's moved. He told me that if I dropped it, it would go off. But he just strapped it around me and left - I think we should be able to get it off me." She couldn't seem to stop talking. "But I'm cuffed - handcuffs. And rope. And oh God Grissom, just get out!"

"Sara, you're going to be ok. Ok? Look at me." He touched her jaw before he turned around. "Greg! Get your handcuff keys." He was just standing there staring. "Greg! Now!" At that he whirled around and ran back outside the door.

"Ok Sara - I'm going to get this off of you. Hold still." He walked around behind her and undid the wires holding the bomb to her waist. Carefully he collected it into his hands and pulled it away from her.

As soon as it was gone, she gave into her natural urge to shake. She couldn't seem to stop. "God Grissom - please, just leave." Her voice was coming out in sobs. "Please."

He stepped away from her, not knowing whether to try and get it farther away from her, or to free her and get her away from it. 00:05

He placed the explosives down on the table and turned back to her. "I'm not leaving you here. I can't do that." He went around her again, working at the tight knots. "Come on come on." One, Two, Three. The rope fell in a pile around her ankles. Handcuffs. "GREG!"

He appeared at the door. "I can't - I can't find them." Panting and out of breath. Grissom noticed the tear streaks running down his cheeks.

"Greg, calm down. In the ashtray - I have an extra set. Go. Hurry."

Circling back around he looked Sara in the eye. She closed lashes wet with tears and hung her head. "I'm sorry Grissom. I didn't mean for you to be here. I didn't mean to tell him that I..." She stopped. "I love you." Another sob. "God I'm sorry - Leave now Gris, while you still can."

Grissom cupped her face and smiled softly at her. "I can't leave. My heart is handcuffed to a pole. I can't live without it." He wiped her tears away as he turned. "Greg!"

"Here. Here. Hurry Grissom." Greg came up behind him, thrusting a key into his hands. He glanced over his shoulder. 00:03.

Grissom's hands were shaking so hard he almost couldn't get the key into the slot. Finally it slid home and he shook as the clasp released with an anti-climatic click.

He pulled Sara into his arms, already running. She was limping against him and he silently cursed the man who had hurt her. Out the door, into the Denali. He slammed the door behind her and got into the driver's seat. The car was still running, and he thanked the heavens that he'd had the sense to leave the engine on.

Greg was already in his seat and reaching for his seatbelt. Grissom slammed the car into reverse, flying backwards down the driveway. He could hear Sara's sobs as she realized she was safe. His own vision was blurred with tears of relief. He hit the main road and felt the ground shake with the force of the explosion as the bomb went off.

He kept driving; somehow he felt like if he stopped, he would wake up. This time, he didn't want to. She was ok. She was safe, and she was here. Finally three miles down the road he pulled over.

With shaky hands he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Dialing Brass, he tried to get control over his voice.

"Gil - we're about 8 miles away... we saw the explosion - please tell me you got her out."

"We got her." He turned in his seat to watch her. She had stopped crying and had her head leaned back against the seat with her eyes closed. He flipped his phone shut and opened his car door.

She jumped as he opened her door. "Grissom..." She was climbing through the door and into his arms before he could respond. "Thank you. God, thank you."

Her whole body was shaking and he did the only thing he could think of to do. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close to him as he could. "It's ok now, you're safe. I'm not going to let you go again." He was murmuring in her ear, letting his hand travel up and down her spine. "God Sara. I thought I'd lost you." She stood there, wrapped in his embrace until Greg's door opened and his footsteps crunched over the gravel. Only then did she pull away.

"Greggo." The smallest smile flitted across her face.

His face was tear streaked and his hair was standing up in tufts that looked wild, even on him. "Ah, Sara. Hell." He sobbed as he gathered her into his arms. "We thought..."

"Hey Greg, I'm ok. I'm fine." She was comforting him, her hands smoothing down his hair. When finally he pulled back, his eyes were red and dust was sticking to the tear streaks on his cheeks.

"We need to get you to a hospital Sara." Grissom spoke up from behind her.

She nodded in agreement and smiled at Greg as she turned around to get back in the car. Grissom took her hand to help her inside and she squeezed it hard before letting him go.

* * *

**Just so you know - this isn't the end. Please stay tuned for my so called wrap up chapters. Don't worry, Nity isn't getting away. I'm gonna have some fun with him yet. :o) Please review, I'm asking nicely, and I'm not begging... but I'd really appreciate it. You guys all rock, and I want to thank each and every one of you for the reviews you've left thus far. **


	11. Chapter 10

Title: Stalked - Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Yeah, like I need the responsibility of not destroying these characters. Right. Trust me, if they were mine, you'd probably hate me - because CSI would turn into GSR. So no, I don't own them.

Author's note: Boy, am I ever sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I believe I agreed to blame it on the heat... 110 degrees folks. Tis Hot. One more chapter to go, hopefully it won't take so long to get it posted this time. Please review, I love reviews. So you + review (equals) Me loving you! Anyways, I'll let you get to it now... oh! After of course I make sure you know how much I appreciate having Sol as my faithful Beta, she rocks ya'll. I'm serious.

* * *

Greg watched as Grissom helped Sara from the car before leading her into the hospital. He fought against the urge to follow them in, knowing full well that she was safe with him, but at the same time needing to make sure. 

Instead, he slipped into the driver's seat and drove away from the doors. Two minutes later he was parked in the lot. He flipped his phone opened and dialed.

"Stokes."

"Nicky..." His voice cracked again. "We uh, we found Sara."

Silence answered him.

"Nick, she's ok."

Greg heard the relief as the other man spoke. "Oh thank God." Words seemed to elude him as he stuttered before finally giving up.

"She's pretty banged up, but - she's going to be ok."

He heard Catherine in the background before Nick spoke again, this time not to him. "She's ok. Sara's alive."

Three seconds later, Catherine's voice floated over the lines at him. "Where is she? God, where's Grissom? No, that's a stupid question; of course he's with her. Where else would he be? We're coming. How is she? Is she hurt?" She stopped and took a breath. "Someone's going to have to process the scene. Did the bomb go off? We probably shouldn't process it, hell; we shouldn't even be processing this scene... I'll call Ecklie, see if he can get a few of the day people out there...and here... Where was she? Did you get Nitilian?" Another pause, longer this time. "Where are my keys? Nick, did you take the keys?" A million thoughts seemed to be running through her head.

She tried to continue but Greg interrupted her with a genuine laugh. "Jeez Catherine, you ramble when you're excited. We're at Desert Palms. I'll fill you in when you get here." He grinned into the phone. "She's going to want to see you guys. Don't forget Warrick, he's still at the lab."

Catherine's relieved chuckle was her first response, followed shortly by a deep breath. "As soon as Nick hands over the keys, we'll be on our way."

Greg folded his phone and turned his face toward the sky. The sun hadn't seemed this bright or this warm in weeks. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair before covering the distance between the parking lot and the front door.

* * *

A nurse pushed the wheelchair down the noisy hallway to an examination room. As they disappeared around a corner Grissom finally sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs. He had been asked to wait in the hall, and he wasn't doing such a good job. This was the first time since the cabin he'd taken his eyes off her for more then a couple minutes. 

He sat, then he stood, then he paced. It wasn't that he wasn't a patient man; he just needed to be able to see her. He had just sat down again when Greg appeared.

"Coffee?" He offered Grissom a styrofoam cup with the hospital's logo printed on the side.

"Thanks." Something to keep his hands busy. He took too large of a drink and grimaced as it burned his tongue.

"It's hot Grissom." Greg was watching him with an amusement that Grissom had almost missed over the last two weeks.

"Thanks for the warning." His tone was sarcastic, normal. He shook his head lightly, before glancing back up. "I need to go outside and call Catherine..." He made to stand up.

"Already did. They're coming."

"Good." He looked over to the seat next to him. "Sit Greg, you've earned a break."

He hesitated only a moment before sitting next to Grissom. He wasn't quite sure what to say or how to say it, so he just leaned back against the plastic seat and stared down into his coffee.

They sat like that for almost fifteen minutes before Greg couldn't take the silence anymore and spoke up. "I found my handcuff keys."

Grissom looked over and saw the humor dancing in the other mans eyes. Part of him wanted to smack him for kidding around, another part wanted to thank him for continuing to be his everyday annoying self. Instead he just raised an eyebrow. "Hm?"

Greg blushed, he cheeks turning a light pink. "They were, uh, in my pocket."

Grissom narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to reprimand him for being so idiotic, but instead he just smiled. Greg looked shocked when a low chuckle escaped Grissom's lips. He was about to comment when Catherine raced around the corner like her hair was on fire, followed closely by Nick and Warrick.

"Grissom! Greg! Where is she?"

"She's back in the examination room." Grissom stood and used the hand not holding the coffee to stop Catherine from taking off down the hall. "She'll be done soon. Then you can see her."

He looked from Warrick to Nick. "Who's processing the scenes?"

"Ecklie acted human for once and told us to come see our friend. He put O'Neil and Sophia on the house and Brooks and Kellie on the cabin." Nick spoke up.

"Are the - " Was all Grissom got out before Nick interrupted him.

"They're good. They're not going to miss anything."

Grissom suddenly felt awkward, standing in the hallway surrounded by these people he had started assuming were his friends. In fact, everyone looked like they felt a little awkward at that moment; unsure of what to say, of how to act.

They weren't here in the CSI capacity this time; they were here as more than colleagues, even. This time they were here as friends. For as long as they had been working together, as good of friends one was with another, one on one; for the whole group to be standing here was foreign to them all.

Finally Warrick broke their silent circle when he stepped back and laughed.

Catherine looked at him like she'd missed the punch line of a silent joke. "What?"

Warrick grinned, his eyes still shining with laughter. "Relief?"

She rolled her eyes at him but didn't fight the small smile tugging across her lips. She tilted her head back and shook it. "Let's sit down." She moved to the row of chairs and settled into one. One by one the boys took a seat on either side of her. "So, fill us in. We want details." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked from Grissom to Greg.

Grissom looked at Greg with a serious expression on his face. "Greg did good. However, we may need to buy him one of those big koosh-ball key chains for his handcuff keys."

Everyone looked confused as Greg busted out laughing. "Oh man. Grissom just said 'koosh ball'."

Nick looked from Warrick to Catherine. "Is it just me, or is this the single strangest conversation we've ever had?"

* * *

They were just finishing with the details of the investigation when Brass walked through the doors. Grissom looked up and frowned at the seriousness on his face. "What is it?" 

Brass moved directly in front of the group before he spoke. "I think we have your bad guy."

As one the team was on their feet.

"Where?"

"How?"

"In custody?"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

Their voices chorused down the hallway as one. Brass smiled. "We put a flag on his credit card, he was attempting to board a plane to Mexico. They detained him at the airport and I've got a unit on their way to pick him up now."

The doctor came around the corner then interrupting further questions and for the moment everyone pushed thoughts of Nitlinan to the back of their minds.

Grissom found his words first. "How is she?"

The doctor extended a hand. "I'm Dr. Hewlet, I'll be in charge of Miss Sidle's care while she's here. Dr. Grissom, I assume?"

Grissom nodded. "Yes. Can you tell me how she's doing?"

"Can I speak to you in private Dr. Grissom?"

Grissom looked over his shoulder at his friends. "I'll be right back."

He turned back to the Doctor and followed him down the hall to an office. "She's ok, right?" He frowned.

"Sara is going to be fine. Physically at least." He motioned for Grissom to take seat.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"She seems to have - detached herself from her abduction. She talks about it like it didn't happen to her, giving details like she would if she was describing someone else's attack. She's either really strong Dr. Grissom, or she's in denial."

Grissom's hand found his eyes and he tried to rub away the dull ache that was forming there. "Probably a little bit of both. When can I see her?"

"I'd first like to discuss her injuries with you. You say he's had her for a couple weeks?"

"Yeah."

"She's lucky. She's got a couple bruised ribs, a deep laceration on her thigh, a pretty bad sprain to her ankle, and you've seen the bruising and cuts to her face. Other then that..." He trailed off, suddenly uncharacteristically hesitant for a doctor.

Grissom caught on to what he was trying to say. "He didn't rape her."

"No, as far as we can tell, he didn't. It is possible that he could have, during the first couple of days, those injuries would have had time to heal. But she says he didn't. I'm hoping she wouldn't lie about that."

Grissom shook his head. "No, not Sara. She'd tell you."

Dr. Hewlet stood and Grissom followed suit. "A nurse is stitching up her leg, but follow me, she's been asking for you."

Grissom's heart kicked up a notch as he walked out of the office after the doctor. As they reached Sara's room, he stopped.

Hewlet looked back at him with sympathy written all over his face. "I never get used to this part, you know? Even when you're sure that they're going to be ok - it's still nerve wracking for the friends and family the first time they get a really good look at what's happened."

Grissom nodded. "The moment it becomes real."

Hewlet knocked on the door, and Sara's quiet voice floated back. "Come in."

As the door swung open Grissom braced himself. He'd seen her at the cabin, he'd watched her the whole way to the hospital, but he had yet to allow his mind to take inventory of her injuries.

His first thought when he saw her was how vulnerable she looked. Broken even. He didn't care what the doctor said, one look at her and he knew she wasn't strong, nor was she in denial. She was just scared, plain and simple. He had to fight against his every urge to take the quick steps into the room, pull her into his arms and make sure she was ok.

"Grissom." Her voice was raw and shaky.

"Sara." He knew his voice gave away all those emotions he'd tried to keep at bay.

When she held out one hand, he didn't hesitate to cross the room and grasp it. She smiled weakly. "I'm ok Grissom." Who was comforting whom? He must look worse then he thought.

"Are you?" With his free hand he pulled the bedside chair closer to the bed and sat down.

Again she flashed the weak smile he was beginning to realize was fake. "I'm not in a thousand pieces scattered across the desert, so yeah, I'd define myself as being fine."

Grissom opted not to pressure her anymore, or to point out the lack of humor in her statement. If sarcasm was how she wanted to deal with it for the moment, he wasn't going to stop her. "There's a whole group of people waiting outside to see you. You think you're up for that?"

She smiled again, still weak but genuine this time. "Yeah."

Grissom looked over at the doctor still standing by the door. "Is that ok?"

Hewlet spoke up for the first time since entering the room. "Yes, but just two at a time and keep it short. Alright?"

Sara looked over as though noticing him for the first time. "When can I go home?"

"We'd like to keep you here overnight for observation, get one of our in-house psychologists down here to talk to you before you leave."

"I'd really just like to go home." She leaned her head back against the pillow, closed her eyes, and sighed. "I hate hospitals."

"In the morning Miss Sidle. We'll try to get you discharged first thing." He pushed the door open. "I'll be back to check on you in a few hours. Try and get some sleep."

Alone with Sara, all Grissom could do was look at her. Her eyes were still closed and for a moment all the tension was wiped off her face. He let his eyes fall from her face and quickly scan what he could see of the rest of her. Her arms were covered in small bruises and scrapes, and her foot was elevated off the bed by two pillows.

He felt her squeeze his hand and looked up to find her watching him. He cleared his throat and stood up. "I'll go get the guys. Who first?"

"Flip a coin." She pulled her hand free. "Will you come back?"

Reaching down he tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, careful of the bruising. "I'm not leaving."

* * *

Greg stopped outside Sara's hospital door and turned to Nick. "What do we say?" 

Nick slung his arm around Greg's shoulders and smiled at him. "You'll think of something. Just don't say 'Glad you didn't get blown up.' I don't think that would go over so well."

Greg pulled away and punched his arm lightly. "I'm not an idiot."

"Whatever you say Greg." He pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Hey Sara!"

"Nicky!" She didn't have to fake her enthusiasm. She held out her arms for a hug.

As he pulled her gently to him he whispered in her ear. "I'm glad you're back. We've missed you."

She pulled away and he saw the unshed tears in her eyes. "I was afraid you didn't."

He smiled. "How could we not? You're our friend. We almost went crazy missing you so bad." He re-tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. "Some of us more then others." He looked over his shoulder at Greg, who was standing by the door shuffling his feet.

"Come here Greg." Sara held out her arms again.

With a smile that lit up his whole face Greg walked toward the bed. He stopped beside her and Nick moved out of his way.

He moved to hug her and stopped. "I don't want to hurt you..."

"The only thing that would hurt me is if you refused to give me a hug." She grabbed his arm and pulled him into her. "See? No pain."

He laughed and pulled away. "Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" His eyes were bright with humor.

"Nah, but I get the idea."

Nick reached around Greg to grasp Sara's hand. "Your doctor gave us strict instructions to let you rest. And there's still a few more people anxious to see you with their own eyes."

"You just got here!" She protested.

"We'll come see you tomorrow - ok?"

She sighed. "Alright."

Greg eased off the edge of the bed and followed Nick to the door. "Take care of yourself ok?"

Sara answered with a mock salute. "Yes Sir."

With an eye roll and a shake of his head he let the door fall shut behind him.

* * *

Catherine strode into the room like she'd done it a hundred times before. "Sara! Gosh girl, it's good to see you!" She walked over and seated herself at the edge of the bed, leaning in to give Sara a quick squeeze. 

Sara smiled as she pulled away. "Good to see you haven't changed Cath."

"And you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"Where's Warrick?"

"Right here." The door swung open and he stepped in. "Apparently Catherine couldn't wait for me to get done in the bathroom." He grinned and held up his hands. "Don't worry, I washed."

"Good to know." Sara cocked an eyebrow at him and he laughed.

He walked toward the bed and dropped a quick kiss on her forehead before settling into the chair. "I know you need your rest, but I just wanted to see for myself that you were ok."

"I wish everyone would stop saying that. I'm a big girl, I think I know when I need rest." She rolled her eyes.

"Tomorrow is going to be a long day. I'd rest while they were forcing it on you." Catherine's tight smile did nothing to hide the truth in her statement.

"Who's going to be questioning me?" Sara's question came out in a dull rush.

"I don't know for sure. Probably someone from PD's day shift. They would have had less interaction with you, meaning their questions and your answers will be more honest and to the point."

Sara closed her eyes. "Wonderful."

Catherine stood. "It's going to be ok Sara. Might not be easy - but you've got friends. And we've got your back. Ok?"

Warrick patted her hand as he stood. "This isn't something you're going to have to go through alone, girl. Trust me on that one."

She smiled and nodded at them. "I know. Thank you."

"Anytime." Catherine angled her head to the clock above the door. "Our five minutes are up, we'd better get going before your doctor brings in the night club bouncers to throw us out."

Sara nodded and settled herself back into the pillows, the small smile falling from her lips as the door clicked shut behind them. She didn't want to be here. And more importantly, she didn't want to be here alone. Not yet.

* * *

By the power of some small miracle, Sara had managed to fall asleep. When she eased her eyes open again she was aware of a presence in the room, and she turned her head to the side to determine whose gaze she could feel. 

"Hey." Grissom's voice interrupted her thought process before she could determine whose form was slouched in the chair.

"Hey yourself. How long have I been asleep?"

"Not long enough. Did I wake you?"

"No. I'm glad you're here." She extended a hand and was momentarily surprised when he took it without hesitation for the second time that day.

"Jim stopped in about twenty minutes ago." He stopped and sighed. "But he had to get back to the station. They're bringing _him _in for interrogation."

Sara didn't need to be told who he meant by 'him'. "They found him?"

"Yeah. Right after they brought you here... we didn't want to say anything until we were sure it was the right guy."

"I'm surprised you're still here..."

"Yeah. So am I, but I wanted you to know we have him. And I wanted you to hear it from me."

"So you are going then?"

"Unless you want me to stay."

She squeezed his hand tightly. "Just... just stay with me until I fall asleep again?" Her words were said in an almost whisper, like she was ashamed of not wanting to be alone.

"Of course." He slid the chair closer and rested his gaze on her face as her eyes fluttered closed. "Sleep Sara. I'll stay."

And he did.

* * *

Nity had said nothing more then asked for a lawyer in the last twenty minutes. Needless to say, this was not part of his plan. And he was angry. Apparently he'd underestimated the talent of the Vegas PD. 

But the worst part of it was that nobody would tell him if Sara was still alive. And apart from asking outright, and by doing so confessing; there was no way he could find out. The criminal in him hoped that they hadn't found her, hoped that she was dead and gone so that she couldn't identify him, couldn't testify against him.

But the other part of him; the man, the most human element in him, wanted her to be alive. He wanted her to be safe and surrounded by people that cared about her. And it drove him crazy not knowing.

The detective that had initially tried to question him had said his name was Brass. Nity had recognized him before he had even closed the door behind him. He was that cop who was at a good number of Sara's scenes with her. Great. Another 'friend'.

He had been very vague about what Nity was being charged with, even though he was fairly certain that he had a right to know. If it was murder - he'd know if she was dead.

"You know what for. We'll discuss it at greater length when your lawyer arrives," had been all he was told before being left alone in this interrogation room with just the guard standing at the door.

Nity was about to give in and ask the guard about Sara when the door swung open and Brass walked back in. He met Nity's eyes with a hard stare. "Your lawyer is here. Let the games begin."

A man Nity had never seen before stepped in behind him and shut the door. "Mr. Bergsten, my name is Raymond Bloomsere. I'm your court appointed attorney, and I'm advising you not to say anything."

"Well, it might help if I knew why I was here." Nity leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, attempting to look both confused and a little smug.

"Well, for starters - kidnapping and assault on a member of law enforcement." Brass replied as he took the seat across from Nity. "Among other things. Arson, murder, faking your death... would you like me to continue?"

Nity's heart dropped. "Murder? Who did I kill?"

"Your girlfriend - her lover." Brass smiled. "Or maybe your lover and his girlfriend. We haven't worked out all the kinks in that story yet. But trust me, you picked the wrong team of CSI's to mess with. If anyone can get this all cleared up, it's them." Another drawn out pause. "Sara included."

Nity swallowed hard. "S...Sara?"

"Yeah, you remember her. The woman you left tied to a bomb out in the desert?"

Again he felt his stomach crawl its way into his throat. "I - I don't know what you're talking about." She was alive.

"Sure you do. Brunette, about five foot nine...give or take. Legs that go on and on..." Brass scrunched his brow. "She probably gave you a hell of a time while you had her chained up in your basement. Girl's got spunk."

"That's enough Detective Brass. You cannot harass my client like this." Bloomsere spoke up. "Innocent until proven guilty remember?"

"Nah - here in Vegas everyone is guilty until proven innocent." There was a knock at the door and Brass stood up and walked over. He carried on a short whispered conversation with someone on the other side.

Finally he backed away looking annoyed. "Fine. You know you shouldn't be here Gil."

"I know." Grissom walked through the door and took the seat that Brass had been occupying.

Turning to Nity he asked, "Mind if I call you Nity? That's what Sara refers to you as." He crossed his arms over the table. "I know Jim ruined the surprise - I wanted to be here when you found out she was alive. But I had somewhere more important to be. I apologize for that."

"I believe I was just telling him," Nity jerked his thumb toward Brass. "That I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do. And I think - I think that you love her as much as you say you do. But let me tell you Nity, I've been to court. I know what kind of hell witnesses, survivors - have to go through when they are forced to testify against the men that hurt them. And I don't want Sara to have to go through that. And if you think about it, I don't think you do either."

"Dr. Grissom!" Nity's lawyer barked. "You are not going to coerce a confession out of my client!"

"Nobody's coercing anything - I'm just stating a fact. It's his decision what he wants to do."

Nity sat back in his chair. "I was wrong." He shook his head. "Six years of watching... how could I possibly have missed it?"

"Mr. Bergsten, I'm telling you as your lawyer to keep your mouth shut." Bloomsere clapped his hand on Nity's shoulder.

"No, no, it's quite alright." He turned back to Grissom with a half smirk. "I might not have given her back had I known she wasn't going to get her heart broken like she broke mine."

His lawyer fell back in his seat defeated. "Can we make a deal?"

Brass spoke up from his position in the corner. "That's up to the DA. But somehow I don't think our friend here is going to be seeing the light of freedom for a long time."

Nity was still staring at Grissom with amazement. "How did you not let yourself love her? How did you hide it from yourself? From me? Hell, from everyone but her?"

"Unlike you Nity, I realized that she was always more important then my own selfish emotions. I knew I couldn't make her happy." The weight of those words pulled on Grissom's heart. "I accepted that she would be happiest without being chained to me... I gave up, I gave in - and I let her go."

Nity sighed. "And now?"

"And now...what?"

"Now that you've let yourself love her? That you've accepted it and gave into it? Will you be able to go back?" Nity frowned. "Or will you do as I asked and let yourself love her in return?"

Grissom stood up. "Nitlinan - what I do or do not feel - that is mine, and you have no right to it. You took her away from me. And by some miracle, you gave her back. But that doesn't mean you're privy to my heart... or hers." He turned toward the door and took three steps away from the table.

"Dr. Grissom... "

Grissom turned around to face Nity again.

"When you break her heart again, make sure to tell her I said 'Told you so.'"

Not giving a response, Grissom turned back toward the door and exited the room.

Brass sat down again in front of him. "Ok, so let's go over this." He slid a tablet of yellow legal paper across to him. "Your statement. I'll question you further when you are finished to fill in the blanks."

* * *

Grissom walked into the hospital and directly to Sara's room. It was way after visiting hours and he knew she was probably sound asleep, but the urgent need to see her was turning him into a wreck. 

He'd planned on going home and sleeping so he could wake up and come take her home in the morning. But his mind's autopilot had a plan of its own and instead of pulling into his own lot, he'd found himself shutting off the engine outside the hospital.

When he reached her floor, the nurse on duty had just looked at him and nodded. He smiled his thanks and pushed her door open. And there she was, still safe, still alive. That same autopilot had him scooting the chair beside the bed and had her hand in his before he knew what he was doing, but she didn't even stir.

When he rested his cheek against her hand, the events of the day suddenly caught up with him all at once, and he found his eyes dropping closed. Within minutes he was sound asleep. And despite the position he was sitting in, it was the best sleep he'd had in weeks. No nightmares plagued his rest, no dreams made his heart race. She was safe now, and his subconscious was subdued.

* * *

**This isn't the end - one more chapter I think. **

**And just because I can -sobs- I have been hearing these horrible horrible rumors that WP shaved his beard. PROTEST! AHHH! **

**Sorry - I love the dimples, I do I do, but I've become verdy attached to that beard. He CANNOT rid himself of it! Noooooooooo! **

**Ok. End Rant.**


	12. Chapter 11

Title: Stalked - Chapter 11 - The End

Disclaimer: I thought I won them on ebay the other day, turns out it was just a horrible replication. oh well. Don't sue me!

Author's Note: First off, I'd like to thank all of you who have taken the time to read this and review. And for all of you who read and didn't review... I thank you as well. Second, I'd really really really like to apologize for taking two friggin months to get this up. It was nobody's fault but my own. I hope there's still a few of you out there who wants to know how this one ends. And lastly, Solomynne - I couln't have done it without you. She's the best beta in the world, she's the one who tells me when I turn Greg into a sniveling little boy-child. lol. Anyways, enjoy! And then review!

* * *

Sara woke up the next morning with an unexplainable sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. For some reason she felt worse then she had the entire time she'd been a prisoner. When she sat up and saw Grissom sound asleep in the chair next to her bed, the sinking became nausea and she threw back the thin blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Grasping the nightstand, she stood shakily. As she took the first step, she fought against the urge to gag. Five more steps and she was holding tight to the handle of the bathroom door.

"Sara?" Grissom's voice was groggy.

"Just have to use the bathroom..." She opened the door and flipped on the light. She flinched as the darkness was swallowed up by light. Shutting the door behind her, she took the two tentative steps toward the sink before detouring to the toilet. It wasn't just an urge to throw up anymore, it was a necessity. She dropped to her knees and lifted the lid, the smell of the disinfectant doing nothing to help her roiling stomach.

For a moment everything was a blur as she pulled her hair away from her face and grabbed the rim of the toilet with the other hand. In the next moment the meager meal the hospital had provided was up and out. She coughed against the taste and gagged again. There was nothing more in her stomach to expel but that didn't stop her body from trying anyway. She rested her head against the cool porcelain in an attempt to stop the throbbing in her ears. A sharp knock at the door had her reaching for the flusher.

"Sara? Are you alright?" Grissom's voice reached her through her fog.

"Yeah Gris, I'm fine." She pulled herself back up so she wasn't hunched over the seat. "Or I will be..." The last part being muttered so she knew he wouldn't hear her.

"Are you sick?" The concern in his voice almost made her vomit again.

"Hospital food doesn't agree with me." She gave a dry chuckle and pulled herself to her feet. She knew that he knew it had nothing to do with hospital food.

"Sara..." His voice sounded so close she felt like she could reach out and touch him, yet far away through the thin wood of the door. She was safe on this side.

"I'm going to shower. I'll be alright...you can go." She waited for a response, and when she didn't get one she reached out and turned on the water. Pulling the flimsy hospital gown over her head she groaned as she remembered the stitches in her thigh and the doctor's instructions to keep them dry. She also knew that he had left a plastic bandage in the closet in case she wanted a shower. She reached over to pick up the gown off the floor to go retrieve the bandage.

"Sara?" Grissom was back at the door.

"I said you could go..." That sounded harsher than she'd meant it to.

"You're going to need this..."

She opened the door an inch, hiding her bruised body behind the gown. He had his back partially turned, but was holding the sterile packaging containing the bandage in one hand.

Her stomach dived again. "Thanks..." She snatched it out of his hand and shut the door harder then she'd meant to, resulting in a slam. She closed her eyes and tried to regain control of the spinning sensation in her mind, failing miserably.

Opening the package she covered her stitches and stepped into the shower. She leaned her forehead against the tile warmed by the water; letting the dull spray seep into her wounds, stinging them, soothing them. "What is wrong with me?" She lathered her hair with a bottle of shampoo sitting in the shower. It smelled nothing like hers, which in some small way was the most comforting thing in the world.

Fifteen minutes later she finally felt normal enough to step out of the soothing pound of the water. Wrapping the hospital-issued white towel around herself, she pulled open the door and stepped into the darkness of the hospital room. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that the sun was fully up, but the only light was what was filtering through the tightly drawn blinds.

She opened the closet and pulled out the bag of clothes that Nick had brought her the day before. Opening it, she found a collection of her most comfortable clothing; bra and underwear included. "Thanks Nicky..." She felt her eyes fill with grateful tears and smiled. She was turning into a crybaby.

She slipped into a worn-in T-shirt and her favorite pair of pajama bottoms. Again she sent silent thanks to Nick for knowing that it was ok to spend all day in her lounging clothes - even if she looked like a bum. Sometimes a girl just needed something that was comforting.

Stepping into her shoes, she pulled open the door to the hallway. Her stomach flipped again as she noticed Grissom sitting in a chair just down the hall. She shut the door again and leaned back against it. What was it about him that was making her react like this?

Sucking in a lungful of air she pulled the door open again and stepped into the hallway, almost running directly into Dr. Hewlet.

"Miss Sidle... Good morning. I was just coming to tell you that we're going to spring you." He smiled and held out her release forms. "Just going to need you to come back in ten days to get those stitches removed."

Sara nodded numbly and took the forms from his hands, signing where he pointed.

"Is there someone here to pick you up?" His eyes were almost unbearably kind.

Again she nodded. "Yeah. My uh.. my boss." She pointed down the hall where Grissom still sat.

"Good... Miss Sidle?" His brows were furrowed together in a look of worry.

Another fake smile. "I'm fine."

"I'm sure you are, but..." He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a card. "Shelby Meyers, she's a good friend of mine and a wonderful psychiatrist. I told her you might be calling."

Sara reached out and took the card, slipping it into the pocket of her pants. "Thank you, I might just do that."

If for no other reason but to find out why the sight of Grissom was making her physically ill.

After shaking the doctor's hand she turned away and walked toward Grissom, the butterflys returning in full force to her stomach. By the time she reached his side she could feel a clammy sweat forming across her forehead. "Let's get out of here."

Sara's voice startled Grissom out of his thoughts. "Already?" God he sounded like an ass.

"Yep, they gave me a clean bill of health." She held out the release forms as proof. She swallowed back any further comment as his eyes bore into hers.

"Really Grissom. I'm ok." She was so tired of telling people that.

"Did you tell them you were throwing up?"

A half chuckle escaped her and she shook her head. "No."

"Sara, you need to tell them... you could have been poisoned or..."

"I don't think it's a physical problem Griss." She rolled her eyes before meeting his again.

That stopped him in mid-sentence and his gaze softened on her own. Giving in with silent confirmation, he stood. "Now what?"

"Now what?" She echoed. "What do you mean?"

"I can take you home or I can take you to the station... they want to get your statement as soon as they can - but they can wait if you wa..."

"I want to get it over with." The words sounded cold, even to her ears.

Grissom nodded, turned away from her and walked away down the hall, leaving her standing there alone. Sucking in a deep breath, like a swimmer about to jump, she started after him.

* * *

The ride to the police station was a ten on the uncomfortable scale. Most of the ride was silent, and not the comfortable silence that Sara was used to sharing with this particular man. This was the horrid quiet that everyone feared, the kind that had you scrambling in your mind for something to say. Anything to say. But everything that makes it past your mind's filters can't make it past the tip of your tongue. Sentences get over thought and nothing gets said. 

Sara found herself picking at the fabric on the door, studying her fingernails, and staring aimlessly out the window. Buildings she wouldn't remember passing if someone asked, flying by. Her mind racing trying to think of that one perfect sentence that would break the painful silence pressing at her.

Nothing sounded right, how could she just say - 'So how have you been while I was being held captive?' or 'So, I'm sorry I got you involved in this, my stupid heart...I should learn not to wear it on my sleeve.'

Six blocks passed, then ten. She rolled her eyes back into her head and closed her lids, blowing air through pursed lips. Why was this so hard? Opening her eyes she glanced over at him, his eyes focused on the road, his hands gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles were white. It was a relief, knowing this was as hard on him as it was on her. She shifted her gaze back out the window.

"It was my choice." Grissom's voice shattered the silence.

She watched her reflection on the glass frown before she spoke. "What was?"

"If I hadn't wanted to be there, in that shack... I wouldn't have been. It's not your fault." He didn't take his eyes off the road.

"I never said it was."

"You didn't have to."

Before she could deny it, she realized it was true. Too true. "You could have died."

"I thought you had died." His tone was different now, but that was the only sign how hard those words had been to say. "And I..." The words trailed off.

"I'm sorry." She was shocked to discover tears in the eyes of her reflection.

"For what Sara? It wasn't your fault... you were strong, you got out."

"No Grissom, I wasn't strong. And you got me out. I would lie there praying that someone would find me, that someone would rescue me. I never thought of how I could help myself. I just survived, you did all the hard work."

With that he pulled the car into a crowded parking lot. When he shut off the engine she finally turned her head to face him. She found him facing her but staring at a spot directly above her head. "Sara..." She watched as his tongue snaked out and wet his lips. "I'm the one who sent you home. I'm the one who told you to leave. Instead of telling you how much I wanted you to stay, I sent you away." His head dropped and she knew the guilt behind that sentence wasn't a new one.

"But I chose to leave." She swallowed hard and moved her hand so it covered his. "Instead of telling you how much I wanted to stay. We both know how stubborn I am, if I had chose not to go that morning, nothing you could have said would have gotten me out of that door." She lifted his chin with the other hand and forced him to meet her eyes. "It's not your fault either."

"Then why...this morning...you wouldn't look at me."

She smiled. "That was my guilt, not yours making me sick. If you had gotten killed trying to help me... I wouldn't have survived."

"If you had gotten killed and I hadn't tried to help, I wouldn't have survived either."

"Then we're even." She ran her thumb over his jaw. "We're even."

"Sara, I wanted to tell you..." His words were cut off as his phone chirped.

"And when the time is right, you will." She moved so she was facing out the windshield again. "You better get that."

He was still staring at her as he flipped the phone open. "Grissom. Yeah. No, we're on our way." He finally turned away from her. "She wants to get it over with... we'll be there in about five minutes. Ok." He shut the phone and reached for the ignition. "They're waiting on us."

* * *

She was seated next to Grissom, across from a detective she'd only met once or twice before; her hands gripping tight to the paper cup of coffee they'd given her. It was surprising her how easy it was to answer the questions, one after another about what Nity had done to her, where he'd taken her, and the things he'd told her about the night he'd killed his girlfriend. The answers just rolled off her tongue, like she was detached from the whole thing. Putting no emotion into it, she relayed how he'd come to her bedside at night and tell her the way he'd gripped Natasha's neck until she stopped struggling. She told how he'd bring her meals and how they'd never contained meat - how it always surprised her that he thought about those things; how he had brought her all the comforts from her own home, the soap, the clothes, the CDs, the towels. She didn't allow herself to remember her own weakness as she talked about the night he'd beat her into unconsciousness. Nothing quite seemed real, none of the questions quite felt personal, and all of the answers felt like she was retelling someone else's story. 

After two solid hours the detective finally stopped. "Miss Sidle... these next questions are going to be a little personal. If you want Dr. Grissom to stay that's fine. However..."

Sara didn't give him a chance to finish. "I need him here."

"Ok. That's fine. We'll continue then." And he did.

This time around it was harder to remain detached as she was questioned about Nity's intentions, about how she wasn't just his prisoner - she was Natasha's replacement. As she told how he'd touch her throughout the day, and as she spoke about the fear that he was going to finally tire of just touching.

When she squeezed her eyes shut before answering, "No. He didn't rape me." She felt Grissom's hand cover her own. When she struggled through the story of the first time he'd tried, he gave her strength she didn't know she needed through the gentle pressure of his hand as he held hers tightly.

When the detective was finally finished and excused himself from the table, she expected Grissom to let go of her. Instead his grip grew stronger and his thumb moved in a calming pattern over the top of her hand. When she stood, he stood, never letting go of her. "Take me home."

Without saying a word he took his hand from hers and placed it at the small of her back guiding her from the room.

* * *

When Grissom pulled up infront of her apartment Sara turned her head to thank him, to excuse him, and found that he had opened his door and was getting out. 

"You don't have to follow me in. I'll be ok." She smiled gently at him.

He sat back in the seat and pulled the door closed. "I know." Fishing into his pockets, he pulled out a set of keys. "You're going to want these, new

locks on all your windows and your front door. Courtesy of the city of Las Vegas."

She reached out and took them. "Thanks... I mean not just for the keys. For...everything." She opened her door and stepped out.

"Sara. You're welcome."

Slamming the car door, she turned away from Grissom and started up the sidewalk to the building, trying unsuccessfully to forget all the times she walked up the same sidewalk thinking she was safe, not knowing the danger that lurked inside her own home. Her breath caught as she pulled open the door and she realized that even with the danger gone, absolutely nothing had changed.

The bike belonging to the guy in the apartment above hers was still resting beside the mailboxes, the hallway still smelled of Ms. Olman's homemade potpourri, and the exit light over the doorway was still flickering. As she climbed the stairs to her door, her heart rate increased - she was hoping everything really was the same, and at the same time dreading that it would be. She stopped just outside her door and listened to the sounds of Mr. Sprendo's records playing; he said nothing beat music the way it was meant to be played; pops, clicks, and white noise. For a split second she thought about knocking on his door and telling him that he was right, no sound had ever been sweeter.

Instead she turned to face her own door and raised the key to the lock before she froze. Remnants of the sticker they'd used to seal her door still remained. Instead of just unlocking the door and pushing her way inside, she ran her fingers over the small trace of yellow.

She didn't know how long she'd been standing there staring at the door when she sensed rather than heard a presence in the hallway behind her. "It's harder than I thought it would be." She turned to face Grissom, who was standing not five feet from her. "You should feel safe at home. You know?" She turned back toward the door.

And then he was beside her. "I'm sorry." He stepped into her line of vision. "I'm so sorry." His voice sounded angry.

Without more than a thought she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, relieved when she felt the pressure of his arms around her. "This isn't home anymore." Her voice was muffled against his chest. "Where is home?"

"We'll find it. I promise." He pulled her away from him and his eyes shone with intensity. "We'll get you a hotel room... or something. Tomorrow we'll find you somewhere to go." He smiled. "Is there anything in here you need?"

"No. I'm not sure I want any of it anymore. It's all been...violated." She had to laugh at her choice of words. "I mean he touched everything, went through everything. Nothing in there is private or personal anymore. Not one thing in those walls is just mine." She hated the way just saying the words made her heart break. "God Grissom. It was MINE. It was my LIFE. Why'd he have to take my life?"

"He didn't. Honey, you're still you, you're still here." He pulled her back into his embrace.

She leaned against him. "Let's go. I don't want to be here anymore."

* * *

Sara climbed back into the Denali and sighed as she buckled her seatbelt. "Can we go to the lab?" 

"The lab? Are you sure you're ready for everyone?"

"More than ready. They're family - the lab is home." She gave him a smile. "It's a safe place. He never touched me there. After that we'll find me a hotel."

"You know Sara..." He glanced over at her. "I have an extra bedroom. It's not much, just enough to keep my mother happy when she visits - but it's yours if you want it, for as long as you need it."

"You mean Mr. Private is going to share his space?" She teased before growing more serious. "I'd really like that."

"Then you'll stay with me." He couldn't hide his smile. "I promise Sara, it's a safe place too."

"I think anywhere with you is going to feel safe." She turned her head away and looked out the window.

"You want to go shopping? Get some clothes? Or...whatever?" He asked as he started the engine.

"Yeah, but lets go to the lab first ok?"

"You got it."

* * *

"Sara!" Greg's voice echoed down the hallway, dashing all hopes of making a quiet return. 

"Greg," She yelled back. "Indoor voice!"

"Sara!" Closer now, and his voice was just above a whisper. ""I didn't expect to see you here so soon."

"I missed this place... I missed the people." She looked around at the growing welcoming party surrounding her. "My friends." Hands were shaken of those that didn't know her so well, hugs were shared with those that she'd formed even the smallest bond with.

She laughed outloud when Hodges pushed his way to the front and buried his face in her shoulder. "I knew you'd come back."

"Yes Hodges, I even missed you." She chuckled as she returned the man's hug as he sobbed against her. "I just didn't know you'd miss me this much." He tightened his grip. "Whoa David, a girl has to breathe you know."

He let go and swiped at his eyes. "Glad you're back." He straightened his jacket and stepped away, trying to regain himself. "Ahem, back to work, all of us." He looked around pointedly at the rest of the lab technicians around her.

One by one they walked away leaving her standing there with a bewildered looking Grissom and a smiling Greg.

"I was supposed to get the first hug." Greg opened his arms in invitation.

"Well, you shouldn't have announced to the whole building that I was here." She stepped forward and into his embrace

He sighed loudly as she wrapped her arms around him and gave him the real hug she'd wanted to give him since last night in the hospital. "I never thanked you for saving me."

"Ah girl, I didn't do anything." He pulled away with a blush on his cheeks.

"Sure you did. Didn't he Gris?" She turned to face him.

"Couldn't have done it without him." He smiled. "Wouldn't have wanted to have had to."

"Well jeez... Hey, does this mean I get a raise?"

Grissom rolled his eyes. "We'll talk about that later. Right now I think Sara wants to see the rest of the gang - are they in the building?"

"Yep, Nick and Warrick are in the garage and Catherine is, uh, you know...I'm not sure where she is." He grinned. "But I'll go find her." He turned and without another word took off in the opposite direction.

"He's got way too much energy. You really need to start limiting the amount of caffeine he has in one day." She turned back to face Grissom.

"He's just excited that you're back. Even tired old me feels like running down the halls yelling that you're ok." He blushed. "Let's go find Nick and Warrick."

She smiled. "M'kay." Turning away from him, she started down the hall.

* * *

"Hey Warrick." She walked up to the set of feet protruding from underneath a beautiful plum-colored a sports car. She winced as the legs jerked and the unmistakable sound of skull meeting metal filled her ears. "Sorry!" 

He scooted himself out and laughed. "It'll heal." He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Probably."

"Baby." She held out a hand and helped him to his feet.

"I'd hug you, but I don't want to get that pretty T-shirt all greasy." He raised an eyebrow at her clothes.

"Ah, so I'm the lab's latest fashion victim. Bite me." She shook her head.

"I'm not filthy yet, can I get that hug?" Nick walked around the side of the car with an ear to ear grin on his face.

"Of course Nicky." She pulled him close, reveling in the feel of his chin resting on top of her head.

Warrick snorted. "You two are so cute. Like my little uh, white, brother and sister. Don't change that ok?" He smiled and pushed Nick away, pulling Sara close. "I've missed you little sister."

"Well, bro, you've ruined my favorite shirt." She laughed against cloth that reeked of oil.

"I'll buy you a new one."

"You bet you will."

Grissom cleared his throat from his spot in the doorway. "Greg found Catherine. Apparently she's hanging out in my office."

Warrick chuckled. "I could have told you that. You better hurry and stop her boss man, she's trying to put a little organization back into your life."

"What?"

"She's cleaning your desk."

"Great." He turned around and started out the door. "She doesn't know what's important."

Sara laughed. "I better go with him. They might need a referee."

Both the guys smiled. "Nah, they've stopped their verbal wars since..." Nick stopped.

"Since I was taken. Glad to know something good came of it." She put her hand on his arm. "And it's ok to say it. I'd prefer that to everyone pretending nothing's changed. Ok?"

"Anything you want." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Welcome home."

* * *

Sara walked into Grissom's office to hear his voice hit the whiniest note she'd ever heard, and never expected to hear, come out of his mouth. "But I neeeeed that." 

"Gil, I'm tired of playing the part of your babysitter. You do not NEED two copies of the same article about some butterfly that you already know everything about." She sighed loudly.

"I have two copies?" Grissom cocked his head.

"I filed one. And this one," She crumpled it up, "is going in the trash."

Sara almost expected him to stomp his feet in objection. Instead he just waved his hand and gave in. "Fine. But everything else stays. I can clean my own desk you know. That's not really in your job description."

"If I don't do it, it'll never get done Grissom, we both know that. I just didn't expect you to come back so soon. I thought for sure you and Sara would be..."

"Hi Catherine, still talking about me like I'm not here?" Sara interrupted her with a smile.

"Sara! I didn't hear you come in." She glanced at Grissom. "How are you feeling? Everything basically maintaining status quo? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home resting?" Apparently Catherine babbled when she was nervous.

Sara nodded. "Everything's normal. I wanted to come see everyone, and yes, that's the plan - resting I mean." Sara shook her head, confused as to what question she was supposed to be answering next.

"Good. Glad to hear it." Catherine interrupted without waiting for Sara to finish. She shuffled her feet and looked toward Grissom. "You gonna take this woman home now so she can get some rest? And I can get this desk cleared before the year ends?"

"Cath..." His voice held a tint of warning.

"I know, I know, I'm not your mother and I'm not your boss. We've had this conversation." She dropped the stack of papers back on the desk. "Your mess, your problem when you can't find anything. I got it." She stepped out from behind the desk and walked up to Sara. "It's good to see you, but really, make him take you home - "She leaned over and whispered, "He really missed you. More than I think even he knows."

Sara felt her ears burning but looked over to find that Grissom wasn't even looking at them, instead he was resorting the papers into two indistinguishable piles. "I know." Catherine brushed past her out the door, reaching out to squeeze her arm.

"Griss? Catherine's right. I think it's time to go."

He looked up and nodded. "Ok, let's go."

* * *

Grissom slid into the drivers seat and watched as Sara leaned her head back against the headrest. "You have any shopping preferences?" He started the engine. 

"Uh...cheap?" She turned her head and smiled. "And fast."

"So the mall is out?" A small smile tugged on his lips as he backed out of the parking spot and drove out of the lot.

Sara visibly shivered. "Don't even kid."

"I'm not sure anything in this town is cheap or fast - well besides the obvious." He smirked. "And that's not always cheap."

"And the buffets - don't forget the buffets." Sara laughed. "They're cheap, and fast too - as long as you don't get there during the early bird hour."

"Ok - so where then?" His smile hadn't disappeared.

Sara thought about it for a minute. "Walmart?"

Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Walmart? Really?"

"What? It's a supercenter. You can fill up your gas tank, pick up your prescription, buy everything you need for a gormet meal, and get the perfect outfit - all in one stop." She giggled. "Walmart."

"I'm not saying it's a bad place - I just never figured you for the Walmart type."

"There's a Walmart type?"

"Mothers, college students..."

"You shop at Walmart! Don't you!"

"Now, I never said that." He raised an eyebrow.

"If you shop there, why does it surprise you that I do?" Sara laughed, not believing his denial for a second.

"You always come across more as a name brand mall type." He flipped on his turn signal, manuvering into traffic.

"Walmart is a name brand." She sat up straighter and covered her mouth as he shot her a look that almost had her giggling like a teenager. "Well, it is." Something about this whole moment had her feeling awkwardly giddy.

The arguement didn't stop until Grissom threatened to take her to the Boulevard mall, one of the biggest in Vegas. "And I'll leave you there!" The laugh that followed his statement contradicted his threat.

Sara laughed as he pulled into a parking space in front of the Supercenter. "This shouldn't take long."

"I'm coming in." He was still chuckling, it had been a long time since he'd laughed like that.

"Need new shoes or something?"

She laughed again as he nodded solomnly - come to think of it, it had been a long time since he'd heard her laugh like that.

* * *

Sara was right, the whole Walmart shopping experience didn't take more then an hour, but Grissom was glad when they were finally next in line at the register. Sara's cart was almost full and she looked tired. "You ok?" 

"Apparently I haven't aquired a taste for shopping in the last two weeks." She smiled. "Still the only thing that can wear me out."

"Aren't women supposed to be born shoppers?" He lifted items onto the conveyer.

"Only women with money - or women who think they have money."

"Ahhh." He moved in front of the cart to pay.

"Grissom, you are not buying my clothes. Or my..." She waved her hand toward a box of tampons.

"Incase you didn't realize it Sara, you've been out of work for two weeks. And savings or no savings, all your accounts are currently frozen." He watched as the total rose. "But I am glad that you chose discount central..."

"Well, uh..." Sara rolled her eyes. "You could have mentioned that before bringing me here."

"You would have felt obligated to go into your apartment. And I wasn't willing to make you go through that until you're ready. Ok?"

She took a deep breath and gave in. "Fine. But I'm paying you back."

"We'll see." He eyed the final amount and raised his eyebrows. "Not bad."

"Gris..." Her voice held warning.

"Ok ok - and I'll even make you pay interest if you like." He swiped his credit card.

"Thank you." She grabbed at a few bags and put them in the cart. "I want the reciept."

After scrawling his name across the bottom, he handed his copy to Sara. "Happy?"

"Thrilled." She cocked her head and smiled.

"Are we ready to go now? Or is there anything else you need?" His voice still held more then a tint of humor.

"I'm ready to get out of here."

"Good because I think my credit card hit it's limit."

"Grissom!"

"I'm joking...this card doesn't have a limit..." He side stepped to prevent being run down by the cart as Sara took aim at his ankles.

* * *

As they pulled up outside Grissom's townhouse he grew quiet. The ride home had been a lot tamer then the Walmart experience, he'd talked about recent cases and how the rest of the team had been, but he'd yet to touch on the subject of himself, or whatever lines they were crossing as he unloaded bags from the back of the vehicle. 

The giddiness that had had Sara feeling strangly happy had all but evaporated. This wasn't just jumping in, this was diving into shallow water with your eyes closed.

"Are you sure it's ok for me to stay? I don't want to put you out... or... I don't want you to think that I'm not going to be ok somewhere else." She picked up the last bag.

"No Sara, I meant what I said. I want you to stay." He reached up and slammed the hatch. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it."

"Ok." An unexpected surge of relief filled her belly.

He led her up to the front door and held it open. "Your room is down the hall to the left. Bathroom is directly across the hall..." He tried to think of anything else he needed to tell her. "Make yourself at home... " He winced at his choice of words. "I mean...I don't mean to imply.."

"I know." Sara stepped past him and let her eyes take in Grissom's sanctuary. She heard him sigh behind her and he shut the door and flipped on a light.

He carried the bags down the hall and Sara fought the urge to investigate his home. Instead she just followed him as he disappeared into a room.

"Wow Grissom... I thought you said it was just enough to keep your mom happy..." She looked around in amazement at the beautiful decor.

He chuckled. "Mom's awfully picky."

"I'm getting that impression." She stepped further into the room.

Grissom set the bags down on the bed and moved toward the door. "I'll let you get settled." He stepped out the door. "Are you hungry? I don't have much in the way of - well much. But I can order out."

"Relax Grissom." She smiled at him. "If this is going to work, you've got to remember what you said. I'm still me. And this wouldn't have been this difficult before..." She laughed. "I told Nicky it was ok to say it. Now I can't seem to do it myself. Anyway, We used to be friends. I just want that back. Ok?"

"So Chinese? Pizza? Mexican?" He raised an eyebrow, quickly changing the subject.

"Honestly? I was thinking something like Mac and Cheese. Or grilled cheese sandwiches." She smiled. "Scrambled eggs... Pancakes."

Again his eyebrow raised. "That's doable... but Sara really - Mac and Cheese?"

"Ok so maybe not so much. But pancakes for sure." He shook his head as he walked away down the hallway, leaving Sara alone.

She took that moment to really look around. She'd gotten the impression she had embarrassed him earlier by praising the room, but it really was wonderful. A solid oak dresser stood in the corner with matching nightstands on either side of the bed. And, speaking of the bed, it was a masterpiece all on it's own. It had a smooth mahogany frame and it was high enough that she'd almost have to climb up onto it. It was covered in a deep red comforter that matched nicely with the chocolate colors of the walls.

Pulling the bags off the bed and dropping them onto the floor, she sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back. "Pillow top. Boy, you got one lucky mother." She kicked off her shoes and socks before pulling her legs up onto the bed. She rolled over onto her stomach, pressing her face into the fresh smelling fabric. "And it even smells clean."

With a groan she pulled herself back up into a seated position at the edge of the bed, reached down and picked up a bag. One thing at a time she unpacked, carefully placing items into drawers and hanging them in the closet.

When everything was put away she smiled, surveying her work. Finally she grabbed a brush off the dresser and went in search of the bathroom. Finding it was as easy as she'd expected - the doorway directly across from her room.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. Again, it was beautiful. Baby blue walls were deepened by the marble of the countertops and the ash colored tile on the floor. She wouldn't really have expected this had she not already seen the guest room.

Closing the door behind her she thumbed the lock and pulled back the shower curtain. The most inviting bathtub she'd ever seen greeted her and she grinned, who would have thought Grissom was a bath man?

Quickly running the brush through her hair, she pulled it back into a ponytail, splashed some water over her face, and exited the bathroom.

"Grissom?" She started off down the hall.

"In the kitchen." He voice floated back.

She was greeted again by an unexpected sight as she entered, coming up behind him. "You're cooking."

"Yeah, it's a little something that one needs to do when living alone."

"Just a sight I never thought I'd get the chance to see." She leaned on the counter beside him.

He glanced over at her. "And you standing fresh faced and barefoot in my kitchen isn't one I thought I'd ever get to see either." She saw the blush raise on his cheeks before he could turn his attention back to the eggs on the stove.

"You decided on scrambled eggs huh?" She stepped back. "And here I was rooting for pancakes."

Without a word he pointed to the electric griddle warming on the counter at his other side. "How about both?"

"That works." She moved to stand infront of the griddle, noticing the bowl of batter next to it. "Need some help? I'm handy with a... flipper thingy." She smiled as she picked it up.

"Go ahead, these are almost finished." He looked over at her again. "Flipper thingy?"

"I lived with a foster family when I was 11 - they always called it a flipper thingy. I guess it just stuck." She used the measuring cup next to the bowl to pour the batter onto the griddle, inhaling deeply as the smell of cooking pancake instantly filled the air in front of her.

"And were forks 'poker thingys'?" His voice held humor.

"Nah, they were attack weapons." She grinned. "All the other kids there were boys. Everything was a weapon."

"That explains a lot." He laughed as she wacked him with the 'flipper thingy'. "And that just proves my point."

* * *

"Ok, so we've finished eating and.." she dried the last plate and returned it to the cupboard. "Done the dishes." 

"I've got some work I need to finish, if you want to go lie down or..." He shrugged. "...you know, whatever."

She wandered into the living room and curled up onto the couch. "You have to work tonight?"

"No." He sat down beside her. "Tonight I'm all yours."

"Only in my favorite fantasies." She blushed.

"Sara... " He turned so he was facing her. "You know earlier when I said that there was something I wanted to tell you?"

"Yeah."

"I think it's about time I did." He was picking at his thumbnail in a nervous gesture. "I just don't want to mess it up - I can't go through that again."

"Go through what?" She frowned.

"Losing you." His eyes shot to hers.

"You won't."

"I don't know why I didn't say this a long time ago. Well, no. I do know why, there were reasons, there were excuses..." He looked back down at his hands. "But then you were gone, and all those reasons just didn't matter anymore. Only you mattered - getting you back mattered. So that I would have the time - the chance - to tell you."

She reached out into his line of vision and took his hand in hers. "I already know. I think I always did." She dipped her head to try to catch his eyes. "And I made a promise to myself. If I ever saw you again, I would stop dancing around it. I would come here to this very moment, and I would let it all out. Consequences be damned. Because everytime I felt you watching me, everytime you wouldn't meet my eyes... I knew."

"I didn't know how much you mattered Sara. I took you for granted every single day. It was selfish and it was stupid, to think that only I mattered. That only my career counted. To think that if I just didn't act on these... if I just didn't do anything that nobody would get hurt. Not me, not you, not anyone." He covered their hands with his other. "But I was wrong. I hurt. You hurt." He took a deep breath. "I don't want us to hurt anymore, I want you to know I love you."

With that she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

He turned his head so his breath mingled with hers and he looked her directly in the eyes. "If you can give me one more chance... I can change... neither of us has to hurt anymore."

"What if I told you that I never gave up, and that I never wanted you to change?" She touched her nose to his.

"I gave up Sara. Not on you, but on myself. I Decided I was too self centered and arrogant to be good for anyone." One centimeter closer.

"You're perfect for me." With that she closed the distance, pressing her lips to his. "We're perfect together - I like you the way you are."

"Sara..." Her name had never sounded so right.

"I love you too Grissom. Even with your flaws." She kissed him again. "I think I loved you from moment one. Even when I was with someone else - it was you I wished were beside me."

"I'm here now." He cupped her chin in his hands. "And I don't plan on going anywhere."

She smiled and pulled herself closer to him, resting her head against his chest. "Then this..." She tilted her head up to look up at him. "This is my home."

"Our home Sara." His arms settled around her. "Our home."

* * *

**The End. **

Final Author's Note: It's been a fantastic ride - and I can't wait to get started on my next. Thank you all for coming along with me and for poking and prodding when it was taking me forever to get things done. I hope you enjoyed Stalked and I hope you'll review and let me know! Thanks a million!


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